Author’s Note: I have decided to set this story in my homeland of Australia. It is written in ‘Australian English’ so some of you may have to look up certain words or phrases. Enjoy and don’t forget to rate it and leave a comment should you so desire.

Matraville, New South Wales, Australia – 1986

“I told you that if I ever came home and found you dressed in that shit again I’d throw you out on your arse,” Cristina’s father yelled at her.

‘That shit’ was a denim miniskirt, a pink lycra tube-top, nude pantyhose, red satin panties and a matching bra, pathetically stuffed with rolled up pantyhose to fill the cups. The ensemble was complete with a pair of cork-soled platform sandals. The shoes were one size too small and Cristina’s toes hung over the front like cliffhangers. Her shoulder-length, sun-bleached hair was centre-parted and brushed into a frizzy do and her makeup was applied heavy and not very well.

This was the third time that Christian Doyle had been caught dressed this way by his father despite Christian’s efforts to keep ‘Crissy’ a secret.

“I just don’t get it! Maybe you just have too much time on your hands… when did all this gap year bullshit start anyway?” William ‘Billy’ Doyle raged and Crissy knew not to answer back; the question was rhetorical.

“When I finished high school you got a fucking job or you went to university. I had left home and was supporting myself at eighteen, not lazing around the house or going to the beach or hanging with my fucking friends doing fuck-all for a year, bludging off your family, like you. I think that’s why you have this obsession with dressing like a fucking nancy! Too much fucking time on your hands to explore your fucking gender identity or whatever bullshit the fern-sniffing, latte-sipping, lefty-wankers are pushing now,” Billy’s tirade continued.

“Well this is it Christian. Get that shit off your face, take off those ridiculous clown clothes and get the fuck out of my house!” Billy’s face was bright red and getting redder.

“Go find yourself a fucking job and support yourself. You can go and suck cocks for a living in Kings Cross for all I care. Just fuck off out of my sight and don’t come back until you have made something of yourself. I’m freezing your Bankcard and you won’t be getting any inheritance from me unless you buck up. I’ll leave everything to the RSL before I leave it to some crossdressed, nancy-boy, poofter! You’ve got half an hour to pack or I’ll just throw you out on the street dressed like that!” Billy pointed to his crossdressed son and then ripped open the fridge door and snatched a can of Victoria Bitter, which he popped open and began to guzzle.

The thought of being thrown out on the street dressed as Crissy was terrifying.

Crissy knew better than to argue with her father and slunk off to her room where she wiped away her makeup, took off her clothes and then went and took a shower. With the clothes and makeup removed Crissy surrendered her psyche to Christian who packed some clothes into a duffle bag. He debated as whether he should ditch Crissy’s collection of feminine requisites and on a whim threw his small collection of feminine attire and his makeup bag into the duffle. He came out of his bedroom to find his father still angry and four cans into what would likely be a full-blown bender.

“Jesus! Look at yourself! Even dressed as a boy you look like a fucking mincer. Here, take this and fuck off. I’ve told my sister in Karumba to expect you but that’s up to you. She owns the caravan park and will be able to get you a job on a trawler and that will make a man out of you but I bet those blokes up there will eat you alive, especially if you pull any of that nancy-boy shit. Come back in a year as a real man with some real money in your pocket and I’ll let you work for me and put you back in my will,” Billy growled, half-drunk and angry.

“Take this and don’t come back until you’ve sorted yourself out or don’t come back at all,” Chris’s father threw two fifty dollar notes on the kitchen table, turned his back on his son and opened the Kelvinator to get another can of VB.

Outside of the house with all his worldly goods stuffed into his duffel bag, Christian realised what it was like to be alone in the world. The few mates he had were at Uni or had jobs and the last thing they wanted was a moocher staying with them. Chris realised that his only option was take up his dad’s proposal and go to Karumba and live with Aunt Greta. The prospect of working on a smelly prawn trawler did not appeal to him but what else was there?

Getting from Matraville, New South Wales to Karumba in far north Queensland with only one hundred dollars in his pocket would be a problem. Chris still had his student rail and bus pass but he could only use that on urban transport. He made his way to the railway station and boarded a train to Sydney then on to Newcastle, which was as far as he could travel on his student pass. He could have bought a bus or rail ticket with the money he had but he was buggered if he was going to waste his money on commercial transport when hitchhiking was free.

Standing on the side of the Pacific Highway with his thumb out Chris wondered what life would be like in an isolated little shithole like Karumba where entertainment revolved around the pub, fishing, the pub, hunting, the pub, trying not to eaten by a crocodile and of course… the pub. And what would he do about Crissy? He had tried keeping his feminine alter ego under wraps but she kept popping out. Chris could just not resist the urge to crossdress. He had been doing so on a regular basis ever since as a young boy he had filched a pair of his mother’s pantyhose and knickers from the laundry basket and tried them on.

Chris had purged a number of times but it was an expensive and futile exercise so he just gave in and presented as Crissy whenever the opportunity arose. His mother was out the picture. She had gone to live in New Zealand with some sheep-shagger after a nasty divorce and it had become even more difficult to hide his feminine requisites and his father had caught him twice before today dressed as Crissy and had belted him hard and threatened to disown him and now here he was hitchhiking to whatever fate lay ahead.

A Mack truck towing a trailer pulled over onto the verge and Chris hoisted his duffel on his shoulders and ran up to the cab, opened the door and climbed in. He saw the look of disappointment on the driver’s face and half-expected the man to kick him out but he just gave a dissatisfied grunt and put the truck in gear.

“Fuck me! I thought you were a Sheila,” the truckdriver grunted.

Chris’s father’s last words rung in his ears: Even dressed as a boy you look like a fucking mincer.

Chris was dressed in cut-off denim short-shorts, a tight pink tank-top and sandals. With his slim build, long tanned legs, shoulder-length frizzy beach-blonde hair he did look like a ‘Sheila’. Chris had, much to his father’s chagrin, adopted an androgenous look when not presenting as Crissy. It was not really a conscious decision but he had been made aware that his fashion choices were questionable on more than one occasion.

Steve Kessler, the truckdriver, thought he had hit the jackpot when he saw the long-legged diminutive little blonde girl hitchhiking on the side of the highway and had been bitterly disappointed when Christian Doyle had hopped in the cab.

“Where you going kid?” Steve asked the effeminate teen sitting beside him in the cab.

“I need to get to Karumba,” Chis replied.

Christ! He even sounds like a girl! Steve lamented.

“Good luck with that kiddo, I can get you to Bris Vegas then you're out on your arse,” he grunted.

Bris Vegas was Aussie slang for Brisbane.

Chis could tell that the truckie was contemplating kicking him out on the side of the road and knew better than to show any disappointment.

“Thanks,” Chris whispered and concentrated on the road ahead.

Steve couldn’t help but scrutinise the diminutive young man sitting in his cab, checking him out surreptitiously. Chris’s face was waiflike, with sparkling blue eyes, a cute button-nose, high cheekbones and a sensuous mouth. His legs were long, shapely and tanned as were his arms and his waist was slim. Steve could be forgiven for thinking that Chris was a girl when he had sighted him standing on the side of the road in the cut-off shorts and pink tank top.

“You really do look like a Sheila you know,” Steve huffed.

“Yes. Ok. You're not the first person to tell me that I look like a girl sometimes,” Chris agreed but it was not a conversation he wanted to have.

“You're not a poofter are you?” Steve asked bluntly.

Another question that Chris had had to answer on several occasions because of the way he looked. The truth was that Chris’s alter ego Crissy had never had sex. Christian had fucked a girl or two. He’d even had a girlfriend but the relationship went down the toilet pretty quickly when she caught him trying on her bra and panties. Crissy had sexual urges but they were non specific. She dreamed of being kissed and caressed by some handsome faceless masculine bloke but that was as far as she allowed her imagination to wander. She knew that there was tranny porn out there if you looked for it but she made do with filching Billy’s porn magazines and video tapes. They were all heterosexual of course but Crissy used them to fuel her masturbatory fantasies, never admitting to herself whether or not she imagined herself to be in the male or female role.

Crissy liked ‘sissy’ things like fashion magazines, boy bands and soap operas whilst Christian like to watch rugby and cricket and going to the beach. Manly things, right? But at the beach hadn’t Crissy sometimes entered Christian’s head and made him look at the bulging pouches in the young men’s Speedos?

“What if I am?” Chris replied sulkily, immediately regretting saying anything.

“Well it’s Brisbane and then you’re out on your arse,” Steve said gruffly.

But during the long haul along the highway Steve kept finding himself side-eying the young faggy-looking boy in the shotgun seat and Chris was intently aware of it and it was uncomfortable. Steve didn’t have a gay bone in his body but he kept thinking about when he had first seen Christian on the side of the road and mistaken him for a girl and the lewd fantasies he had conjured up about getting the ‘passenger seat princess’ into the sleeping compartment in the back of the cab. He shook his head and concentrated on the road.

“I was sure you were a Sheila,” Steve grumbled and then became stonily silent.

Nearly twelve hours later, stopping only once to use the toilet and get snacks, Steve put on the indicator as he approached the slip road that led to a roadside truck stop just outside of Brisbane.

“I’m going to get a feed before I hitch up the rest of my road train at the depot,” Steve said as he entered the slip road.

“Road train? I thought you were only going as far as Brisbane?” Chris came out of his fugue where Crissy had taken control of his dreams and was thinking naughty thoughts about the surfers on Cronulla beach.

“Yeah, well I’m going on to Cairns but you're not coming with me. Anyway I’m not supposed to pick up hitchhikers. It’s against company policy,” Steve countered.

“I bet if I was a Sheila you wouldn’t be kicking me out of the cab,” Chris said sulkily.

“Yeah, well you ain’t a Sheila so this is as far as you go sunshine,” the brakes hissed as the truck rolled to a stop.

The truck stop was quite large with designated fuelling stations and a parking area for heavy commercial vehicles and trucks that was separate to the fuelling stations and parking area for passenger cars and small commuters. A large building housed the restaurant, snack bar, mini-mart and toilets. The truck parking area had its own ablutions block so that truckies could clean up before going into the restaurant.

“You can have a shit and a shower over there but they don’t allow hitchers to tout for rides in the parking lot so you’ll have to drag your arse back out on the highway to hitch a ride,” Steve pointed at the truckers ablutions block and walked away towards the restaurant without even saying goodbye.

Chris eyed the Besser-brick restroom with some trepidation. Someone had scrawled ‘truckers only’ on the wall but Chris was in no mood to eat or shop so he slung his duffle over his shoulder and made his way to the ablutions.

The smell of stale sweat, hot shit, urinal cakes and cheap bath soap invaded his nostrils as soon as he entered the place. He made his way to a toilet stall and took care of business and then made his way to the shower stalls. At least the shower stall was roomy with a small bench, a towel rail and two clothes hooks screwed to the back of the door. Chris sat on the little bench, the wooden slats digging into his buttocks as he rummaged around in his duffel looking for a change of clothes and a towel.

He was travelling light and had packed mainly t-shirts and shorts with one pair of jeans and one work shirt. He would have to buy boots somewhere along the way because he bet everything in Karumba cost twice as much as elsewhere. He pulled out his little toiletry bag and the small towel he had packed and his fingers brushed against the plastic bag at the bottom of the duffel. A faint odour of perfume assailed his nostrils.

Chris was still determined to get to Karumba with as much of the one hundred dollars he had in his pocket as he could. He would have to hitch to Cairns and then find someone who was willing to take him to Karumba. He recalled what Steve Kessler said about it being against company policy for truckers to pick up hitchhikers. The only reason Steve had picked him up was because he thought Chris was a girl.

Crissy’s personality emerged uninvited and planted a thought in Christian’s head.

“Fuck it! What have I got to lose?” Crissy’s effeminate voice giggled.

Christian surrendered his psyche to Crissy and let her take control.

A hairy-arsed trucker taking a dump in one of the four toilet cubicles thought that he heard a girl’s voice coming from the showers but he knew he must be dreaming. He was dog tired and nearly home and looking forward to dragging his buxom-arsed Missus into their swimming pool and rooting her right there in the warm water.

Crissy stripped and took a long shower and shaved the few rogue hairs that sprouted from her mainly whiskerless body. She dried off, bushed her hair and laid out the denim miniskirt, pink lycra tube-top, nude pantyhose, red satin panties and matching bra on the seat. She dithered about the pantyhose. It was warm and would be getting warmer the further north she got. She knew that her long tanned legs looked good bare but clad in nylons they were stunning.

“Fuck it!” Crissy whispered and sat down to put on her pantyhose, smoothing them out and tucking her genitals under her crotch as best she could.

She hiked up the red satin panties over her pantyhose. She preferred the aesthetic of panties over pantyhose and they helped disguise her male genitalia. She also dithered about the bra. She had no intention of stuffing the cups but the cups were padded a little and would give her some shape under the tight tube-top so she put it on.

Getting her makeup right was tricky using the little compact mirror but she only applied a light dusting of finishing powder to her face, dispensing with the blush and concentrated on getting her eyes and lips right. She laid down a vibrant punchy pink shade of eyeshadow base and then used deep purple eyeshadow to create a beautiful, blown-out crease. She delineated her eyes with black kohl and used a fingertip to smudge her bottom eyelids to get the smoky-eye effect. Lashings of mascara exaggerated her long eyelashes and with her eyes done she took out her ‘bold berry’ lipstick and painted her lips, overlining them so that her lips effected a plump pout.

Happy with the result she stepped into her denim skirt and pulled on her tube-top. She slipped her feet into cork-soled platform sandals and stood up to straighten her skirt and smooth out her top. She put on her cheap costume jewellery: a choker, bangles and drop earrings and sprayed herself liberally with cheap perfume.

It was the best Crissy could do in the confines of the shower cubicle listening to a parade of truckers come and go, using the facility and adding to the stench that pervaded the ablutions block. She wondered what might happen if one of them was to rip open the door to her shower cubicle and discover her. Her thoughts alternated between being ‘poofter-bashed’ or being forced to offer sexual services. The latter idea had some appeal in a ‘fantasy that would never come true’ kinda way. She packed her duffel and steeled herself, waiting until she was sure that the ablutions block was empty before she came out of the cubicle.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the flyspecked and soap-stained mirror over the sinks as she walked briskly out of the ablutions block.

She looked like a whore.

Crissy strode boldly over to the cab of Steve Kessler’s truck, looking neither right nor left. She anxiously smoked a cigarette in the shadows of the semitrailer waiting for Steve to return and when she saw him approaching she gave a sigh of relief.

Steve was busy picking his teeth with a toothpick and thinking about getting to the truck depot so he could hitch up the remaining trailers of his road train and get fuelled up and then get some sleep in the back of his truck before he hit the road again. He looked at his watch and mentally calculated the distance between Brisbane and Cairns. Sticking to the speed limit, even with a layover in Mackay, he’d get there within the deadline.

As he stepped into the shadows of the closely parked rigs he looked up and saw Crissy standing next to his cab. He was confused for a couple of seconds then he realised who she was.

“Going my way honey?” Crissy smiled cheekily at him.

“Jesus! Get in the fuckin’ truck!” Steve took only a millisecond to make up his mind.

Crissy struggled to climb in the cab and Steve put his hands on her arse and shoved. One of his hands slid under her skirt when he pushed her and he liked the sensation of her satin panties against his fingertips and his cock began to uncoil in his underpants. Crissy went A-over-T-bracket into the truck, legs and arse akimbo, without a hint of decorum. Steve tossed her duffel in after her.

“Get in the back! Get in the sleeper before anyone sees you!” Steve hissed, pushing Crissy between the seats and into the sleeping compartment, grabbing another feel of her arse.

Steve climbed in the cab, slamming the door behind him then continued on into the sleeping compartment where Crissy lay with her skirt hiked up and an inviting smile on her face.

It’s not gay if you don’t kiss her, right? Steve thought to himself as he clambered into the sleeper and lay on top of Crissy.

He kissed her.

He had no regrets about it either. She smelled of something flowery and her breath tasted like bubblegum, and she was pretty, and her body was tiny but her legs were long and they were clad in shimmery silky pantyhose which rubbed against his sides when his work shirt came free of his shorts. The lustrous nylon felt very sensuous against his thick body.

Crissy had never done anything like this before, although she had fantasised about it often enough. The real life experience was better than any fantasy Crissy had ever imagined, she thought to herself as Steve climbed on top of her, his weight pushing her down into the mattress. His lips were firm and his tongue invaded in her mouth. His stubble grazed her smooth soft cheek, his mouth tasted of hamburger and onions and coffee, he was sweaty and exuded a manly musk. He was ruggedly handsome, unkempt and muscled and he had a hard beer-belly. The beer-belly didn’t disgust her, nor did the feel of Steve’s cock pressing into her belly. In fact Crissy had never felt so feminine in her life. The juxtaposition of his manly ruggedness accentuated her femininity. These thoughts rushed through her brain as the brawny trucker lay on top of her.

Steve kissed her and pawed at her. His tongue flittered inside her lips as he sucked on her mouth, his hands stroked her legs and she relished the feel of his rough fingers on her slinky pantyhose-clad thighs. He scrunched her buttocks, pressing his cock against her through his shorts, gasping and groaning as he rutted against the diminutive pretty little crossdresser whom Steve did not think of in any way a boy.

Crissy was able to snake her hands between their bodies, her fingers struggling with the belt buckle on Steve’s work shorts, his gut hanging over his belt didn’t help but she fumbled away and managed to get it unbuckled and then she unzipped his fly. Steve broke the kiss long enough to shuck out of his shorts and underpants but he left everything else on. He wanted sex and he wanted it now!

For the first time in her life Crissy took another man’s penis in her hand and immediately felt empowered. This man’s penis was as hard as a rock. It trembled with a life of its own and a filament of precum leaked from the eye. She had caused him to be this way. He wanted her; he wanted Crissy! She knew that Steve did not identify Christian with Crissy. Crissy was a another person entirely.

She returned his kisses and rubbed her legs against him and stroked his cock until it was fully engorged. She sensed Steve’s impatience and she could understand why. The truck was parked in a crowded lot surrounded by other trucks and although the doors were locked there was still the possibility that other truckies could hear what they were doing in the back of the cab. Crissy thought that made what they were doing a little more exciting but Steve seemed anxious despite his ardour.

He rolled over so that Crissy was now on top of him and pushed against her shoulders. It didn’t take a Rhodes scholar to figure out what he wanted and Crissy dutifully turned herself around, which was quite the gymnastic feat given the confines of the cramped sleeper.

There it was. Inches from her face. A hard phallus, straining, leaking precum, almost angry looking. She dithered a little. She was about to cross the Rubicon as her history teacher would say. If she did what Steve desperately wanted, and deep inside her subconscious so did she, there was no turning back. Then she felt Steve’s hands caressing her thighs. She was glad that she had decided to wear the pantyhose because Steve obviously enjoyed the feel of them and his hands caressing her silky nylons sent little sparklets of pleasure along her body.

Crissy lowered her mouth to the throbbing organ, ignoring the musky, sweaty funk that wafted from Steve’s crotch. Her lipsticked lips enfolded the pink glans and she tentatively lapped at the tip of the organ and tasted the sweet nectar of his pre-ejaculate. She lost all trepidation and took Steve’s phallus into her mouth and began to suck it.

Steve had to admit that he was having second thoughts about what he was doing. The ‘girl’ in the sleeper wasn’t really a ‘girl’ right? But when Crissy presented her rounded buttocks clad in those shiny red satin panties only inches from his face with those long shapely legs sheathed in the translucent nylon and lycra either side of his head, her little skirt framing the visage and then when she took his engorged cock in her mouth, any foreboding Steve had, suddenly disappeared. Her perfume displaced the sleep-funk in his cabin, her trim body pressed gently against his, her legs and bottom were all he could see of her but her feminine presence was overpowering

He lay back and groaned with delight, softly stroking her thighs to intensify the experience. It’s not gay if you don’t touch her cock, right? Steve had re-evaluated his moral stance. When Crissy took his whole penis in her mouth and began to move her lips up and down, her tongue lashing his fraenulum, his moral compass began to spin uncontrollably. He felt his pelvic muscles begin to tense up and his scrotum pull closer to his groin and his cock begin to shudder.

Crissy sensed Steve’s oncoming climax and she sucked harder on his quivering manhood, lashing at his glans with her tongue while her lips moved steadily up and down the shaft. She gently cupped his scrotal sac and caressed it. She felt Steve entwine his fingers in her hair and his lower body rose up off the mattress forcing all of his manhood into her mouth. Steve’s hands relocated to Crissy’s buttocks and he squeezed them to encourage her.

Steve was unable to suppress the mighty groan that issued from his mouth as he released his essences into Crissy’s sweet mouth.

The pulsing jets of scalding musky semen caught Crissy a little by surprise but rather than being repulsed by the sensation of the jittering penis filling her mouth with semen, she was delighted. She suckled Steve’s cock until she had drained every skerrick of his juices, swallowing the sweet-salty issue and savouring it. Her cock was tenting her panties and she would have loved Steve to touch it but she knew that was never going to happen so she just delighted in the sexy, feminine feelings that overwhelmed her.

As soon as he came, Steve began to feel pangs of regret. What the fuck was doing with this teenage crossdresser in his truck? One: it was a good way to get fired. Two: he wasn’t gay and he had never done anything like this, even though he had been tempted one night after watching a Les Girls drag show in Kings Cross at a work function. Three: if his fellow truckers found out what he had just done they would label him a poofter.

His first instinct was to throw Crissy out of the cab but what if someone saw or what if she talked? Maybe he could drop her at another truck stop or on the side of the road? Then the reptilian part of his brain chimed in: ‘What if I to take her to Cairns and get some regular head on the way?’.

Crissy sat cross-legged on the mattress putting on fresh lipstick, using the little compact mirror. He looked at her and the little head in his cock spoke to the big head on his shoulders: ‘She’s pretty, she’s sexy, she’s young and she’s desperate’.

“Ok here’s the deal. I’ll take you to Cairns but you only ride up front when we are on the road. Whenever we stop you hide in the sleeper and keep fucking quiet. I never want to see that faggy young bloke again just you, like you are now. Finally, you give me sex whenever I want it,” Steve said gruffly, already doubting his decision.

“Agreed. I’m Crissy, pleased to meet you,” Crissy smiled at him and held out her hand.

Steve shook her hand and as soon as he touched her he wanted to kiss her again and have more sex but the clock was ticking.

“I’m going to the depot to refuel and load up my road train. You stay back here and keep your mouth shut. Nobody should come to the cab except me but if they do, pull a sheet over yourself and hide. I’ll make up some bullshit story about picking up a backpacker sheila. Lots of drivers do it, although they shouldn’t,” while he was speaking Steve adjusted his underpants and work shorts.

“Any questions?” Steve barked.

“Just one... are you going to shower at the depot honey, you stink,” Crissy grinned at him salaciously and when she saw the storm clouds cross his face she leaned in and kissed him, using a little tongue to tease him.

“Jesus fuck! What have I got myself into?” Steve pulled the curtain aside and climbed into the driver’s seat and Crissy dutifully pulled the curtain closed and settled in for the ride.

Crissy stayed in the sleeper while Steve drove to the depot, refuelled and hitched two more trailers to his rig. There was lots of noise. The clattering and banging of trailers being hitched together to make up the ‘B-triple’ interspersed with the swearing and cursing of rough men joking and bantering as they worked. Crissy couldn’t help but ponder what would happen if the men discovered her in the sleeper and as her imagination ran wild with lewd thoughts, she drifted off to sleep.

She was awakened by the road noise as Steve’s rig skirted the suburbs of Brisbane and settled onto the A1 heading north. Crissy scampered out of the cab and settled into the passenger seat and was delighted to find that Steve had showered, shaved and changed into clean King Gee khaki shorts and work-shirt. They chatted for a while and Crissy told Steve why she was heading up to Karumba, carefully omitting any reference to ‘Christian’, only referring to herself as Cristina to maintain the illusion and abide by Steve’s wishes not make any reference to the ‘faggy young bloke’ who had climbed into the truck.

Crissy really enjoyed being able to express her femininity in the company of another person and did not object one little bit when Steve began to fondle her legs. She could see by the bulge in his shorts that he was horny again and if she could read Steve’s mind she would see that he was considering getting Crissy to blow him while he kept driving along on the Bruce Highway but commonsense prevailed and Steve pulled into a layby about an hour out of Brisbane and bundled Crissy into the sleeper so that she could blow him again.

“Well that was short but sweet,” Crissy teased once they were back on the road as she tried her best to reapply her lipstick while the truck bounced along the highway.

“Look, you are a sweet sexy girl and I’d like to spend a little more time with you in the sleeper but I have to keep my schedule. I’ve got a mandated rest stop in Mackay so we can really get into it, Crissy,” Steve looked at her knowingly and Crissy’s mind raced, wondering what he meant by ‘really get into it’.

Crissy knew better than to talk about her life as Christian. Steve was besotted with the ‘girl’ named Crissy and she didn’t want to break the bond they were forming. It wasn’t really a ‘relationship’ but it was more than sex… or so she thought, anyway. She asked Steve if he had a wife or girlfriend, careful that she might be treading on dangerous ground but Steve opened up to her.

“There’s this joke that truckers often tell in the pub: ‘Why is the bride smiling when she walks down the aisle? Because she knows that she has given her last blowjob.’ Well that was Sandy, my wife,” Steve sighed.

“She was working in the office at the freight yard in Sydney when I met her. Sweet girl, always dressed nice. You know, secretary stuff… skirts, nylons, heels, makeup. After we got married it was if she gave up on herself. Once a week and on ‘special occasions’ she would ruck up her flannel nightgown, pulled down her cotton granny-panties and lie still while I rutted away at her frigid body,” Steve sighed longer this time.

“I took jobs that kept me away from her longer and started rooting the prossies who worked the truck stops because sex with Sandy was so boring and almost non-existent,” Steve explained.

“When I had bought her a pink satin teddy, camiknickers and black holdup stockings as an anniversary gift she had laughed at me and told me to grow up. Anyway turns out she hadn’t given up on herself… she had given up on me. She was having an affair with the boss and I have to say I was glad when she finally left,” Steve gave a wry smile.

“So now I’m footloose and fancy free and I fancy taking you into the sleeper for another go at you before we get to Mackay,” Steve grinned at her and reached out and stroked her leg.

Crissy put her hand over his and encouraged him to fondle her thigh.

Outside of Gladstone Steve pulled over and hauled Crissy into the sleeper once more for another quick blowjob. He could hardly keep his hands off her while he drove and his sexual appetite was ravenous. Crissy was becoming an accomplished fellatrix in a very short time and discovered that she had an affinity for sucking cock. She became aroused as soon as she took Steve’s phallus into her mouth and would have loved to be able to masturbate while she sucked him off but she was acutely aware that Steve didn’t want the illusion shattered that Crissy was anything other than a pretty young girl so she refrained form doing so but she by the time they pulled over just outside of Mackay she was very sexually frustrated.

Crissy needed to shower and use the ablutions and there was no way that she could do so at the truck depot in Mackay where Steve needed to unload one trailer and hitch up another and then refuel. Steve explained that he couldn’t drive his road train into the city so he would drop her off at a bus stop on the highway and pick her up at the same spot in three hours.

“Here, get yourself something to eat and drink and buy yourself something pretty. I’ll see you soon,” Steve handed Crissy twenty dollars and leaned over and kissed her.

Crissy grabbed her duffel and was about to jump out of the truck when Steve reached out and gripped her upper arm.

“You are coming back aren’t you Crissy?” Steve asked.

“Of course I am honey; why wouldn’t I?” Crissy kissed him long and hard before leaping out of the truck.

Crissy was lucky and a city bound bus pulled up not long after and she handed the driver the correct fare and took a seat, suddenly aware that this was the first time she had been out and about in the world as Crissy. She was acutely aware that she was being stared at and soon begun to realise that it was not because she had been clocked but it was because of the way she was dressed. A girl dressed in a denim miniskirt, pink lycra tube-top, nude pantyhose and cork-soled platform sandals was of course going to attract attention in this North Queensland provincial sugar town populated mostly by country folk.

She felt more at home in the city centre which had a sleepy country feel to it rather than the metropolitan feel of Sydney or Brisbane. The Mackay Regional Council public toilets offered free hot and cold showers and Crissy took advantage of them, her first time ever using ladies facilities. After she showered she put on the same clothes as they were the only feminine attire she had packed other than a change of underwear.

Crissy strolled the streets looking for somewhere to eat when she came across a small clothing store that looked like it had seen better days. Lane’s Clothing Emporium was a throwback to better days when country folk could find everything they needed at a store that was locally owned and operated. It was a sad shadow of its former self, big signs in the large frontage windows stating Closing Down Sale – Everything Must Go summed up the state of affairs.

Inside the store, long counters, now unattended, stretched from the front all the way to the back. The lighting was poor and dust motes floated under the few overhead lights that were still operating. Crissy found the place somewhat eerie but also fascinating. Most of the displays were bare as were most of the mannequins and the remaining stock had seen better days. Crissy walked down an aisle to the ‘ladies requisites’ section. The few mannequins that were dressed were wearing outdated fashions. It seemed that anything modern or popular had been sold.

A lady appeared as if out of nowhere. She was of indeterminable age but dressed very nicely in somewhat dated finery: a tailored navy blue suit entailing a pencil skirt and fitted jacket, seamed fleshtone stockings and black stilettos. Her greying hair was worn in a coiffed shoulder-length bob and her makeup was very vintage, defined by polished glamour, emphasising her flawless complexion with defined brows, bold lips, and expertly winged eyeliner.

“Hello dear, I’m Beverley Lane, proprietor of this once thriving but now neglected establishment. I’m afraid that anything that might be of interest to someone like you has long been sold. You might be better off at Big W or Kmart. They put me out of business you know,” the woman’s voice was huskily alluring, like she might have smoked quite heavily.

“Sorry to hear about it. I'm Christina or Crissy for short,” Crissy moved closer and guessed that the woman was in her sixties, although still very attractive with an hourglass figure accentuated by her suit.

“Oh! Come closer to dear, let me take a good look at you,” the woman smiled invitingly and although Crissy suspected that she had been clocked she approached the woman.

Beverley inspected Crissy closely before speaking again.

“Back in the fifties and sixties Albert Tanner used to own the Pioneer River Lodge. He would come my Emporium after hours and I’d help him select suitable ladies attire. He was like you, you see. It was rumoured that he liked to dress up as a lady named Elspeth and entertain gentlemen who had a penchant for that kind of thing,” Beverley paused to remove a gold cigarette case and matching lighter from her clutch.

“I’m not saying that you like to entertain gentlemen, I’m saying that I assisted Albert in finding garments that fitted him and helped him with deportment, style and makeup. I even fitted him with a couple of wigs. Albert, or should I say Elspeth, looked quite fetching when she was dressed accordingly,” Beverley extracted a cigarette from the case and lit it with the lighter.

Crissy was a little taken aback that Beverley had recognised who she was but Beverley was so good natured about it that Crissy didn’t feel to uncomfortable. Besides, they were the only ones in the shop.

“Albert has long gone but if you are interested, I have some pieces that I put aside for Elspeth that might interest you,” Beverley blew a plume of smoke towards the ceiling.

Crissy was so surprised by these unexpected turn of events that she simply nodded and followed Beverley to one of the counters.

“Let me show you what I have left,” Beverley opened a large drawer and began to rummage through it.

She produced a red satin negligée with spaghetti shoulder straps, a black garterbelt, four pairs of panties in nylon, silk and satin in pink, white, black and red, and numerous packages of hosiery. She laid them put them in a wire shopping basket and took Crissy by the hand. Next they visited the cosmetics counter which appeared to be empty but Beverley found what she was looking for in a cupboard underneath the counter.

“Now come with me, I have something special which I think might fit you,” Crissy allowed herself to be led to a stockroom at the very back of the store.

In one corner a mannequin was dressed in a skirt and blouse. The basic black pencil skirt was very retro with a sexy, curve-hugging silhouette, a high waist and a provocative, 10" back slit. The satin blouse was mauve and buttoned down the front.

“As you can see Elspeth was very petite but she had long legs just like you. Would you like to try it on?” Beverley smiled at Crissy and it appeared the sad lady whose business was going under was taking some pleasure helping Crissy.

“Sure,” Crissy was a little uncertain but what the hell; she had a couple of hours to kill.

“I haven’t done this for so long, it’s quite exciting. Now put your duffle bag on the floor and strip for me dear and stand here in front of this vanity,” the antique vanity looked older than Beverley Lane but was beautifully made with a big mirror mounted above the benchtop.

“You want me to strip?” Crissy was ready to draw the line.

“Looking at you I see a lovely young girl who is quite new to being one. I would like to show you your full potential. Let’s just pretend I’m a family friend helping a teenage girl dress for her first time going out on the town,” Beverley gushed.

Crissy thought about it only for few seconds and began to undress, taking off her cork-soled platform sandals. Beverley snatched them from her hands.

“These are at least one size too small. Let me see if I can find something that fits and will go with the outfit,” Beverley disappeared amongst disarray of boxes and cartons scattered around the stockroom some which appeared to be as old as Beverley herself but still unopened.

Crissy took off her denim skirt, tube top and brassiere but left on her panties and pantyhose for modesty and took a seat at the vanity. Beverley returned carrying two cardboard shoeboxes which she placed on the benchtop next to the wire basket. She removed some items from the basket and placed it on the ground.

“Why haven’t you undressed properly dear? Don’t think for a minute I’m going to let you wear those awful cheap pantyhose with that beautiful skirt. Don’t worry, Albert Tanner was a little reticent at first but once I began to help Elspeth show her full potential, she soon became comfortable,” Beverley fussed with the items she had taken out of the basket.

Crissy stood up and rolled down her pantyhose. They bunched with her panties around her feet and then she kicked them off.

“Perfect, now stand still for me please. Have you ever worn one of these? Let’s just say the question is rhetorical and I’ll show you how,” Beverley held out the black satin and lace garter belt and jiggled it.

The garter straps waggled as she did so, the silver clasps and adjusters seemed to sparkle like gems under the dull overhead lighting. Beverley took the seat in front of the vanity and swivelled it so that she was facing Crissy. Crissy was aware that Beverley’s face was inches from her crotch and her penis seemed to shrivel, which she thought was better than the alternative.

“Now pay attention,” Beverley said in an authoritative tone that implied that she was used to telling people what to do.

Beverley was all business as she positioned the high-waisted garter belt around Crissy’s waist then she adjusted the garters, untangling them and adjusting them to maximum length. Beverley explained that the garters should reach down to where the tops of her stockings will sit and to make sure the straps are even on both sides.

“Ok sweetheart lets change places and you can put on your stockings,” Beverley got up and unwrapped a package of dark-tan, fully-fashioned nylon stockings, the cellophane so old that it crumbled as she did so.

Crissy sat down and extended a leg as she was told to do and watched fascinated as Beverley held one of the stockings by the welt and carefully bunched it up so that Crissy could slip her toe in without contacting with the rest of the stocking. Beverley eased the stocking over Crissy’s heel and pulled it up to her ankle, ensuring the seam was in the correct position. Then she pulled the stocking up to full length and checked the seam for straightness. Next she opened the clip on one the garter and slid the top edge of the stocking between the clip’s rubber and metal parts, firmly closing it, ensuring both the stocking and the small rubber nub were gripping the gauzy welt to prevent slipping.

“You do the other three garters; two at front and two at the back, evenly spaced,” Beverley helped Crissy attach the clasps to the stocking correctly, explaining that the dark stocking top is correctly called the ‘welt’ and the slightly lighter band under that the ‘shadow welt’.

“There. Not too bad for your first effort now stand up and we will adjust the garters so that they hold your stockings in place at the correct height. No girl should ever wear baggy nylons,” Beverley said reproachfully.

“Way back in 1951 I heard Jan Sterling in one for movies say ‘I don't go to church. Kneeling bags my nylons.’ Which I thought both funny and true. Being raised a good catholic girl, I did go to church however,” Beverley laughed at the anecdote whilst helping put on the other stocking.

“Ok, lets switch places,” Crissy stood up and faced Beverley who sat in the chair.

Beverley fiddled with the silver adjusters, smoothing out any wrinkles and shortening the garters to that the welts sat high on her thigh. Once again Crissy was very aware that Beverley’s face was inches from her privates; she could feel Beverley’s breath on her thighs and crotch. The feel of Beverley’s fingers flittering on her leg through the diaphanous nylon was very arousing and despite her best efforts Crissy could feel her cock distending. Beverley seemed not to notice.

“The stockings should feel secure, and the garter belt should sit comfortably without shifting. Make sure you keep the seams straight, you can put your foot on my seat if that helps,” Beverley placed Crissy’s foot on the edge of the chair, between her legs.

Crissy did as she was told and after fiddling with the garter adjusters and smoothing the stockings along her legs she was happy with the result. The stockings felt so much more sexy than the cheap pantyhose she wore but tinkering with the garters to properly adjust the stockings and straightening the seams required her full attention and thankfully her penis became flaccid once again.

“Okay, now step into these,” Beverley held out a pair of pristine white full-cut nylon panties with lace trim on the waistband and legholes.

Crissy stepped into them and Beverley slowly slid the garment up Crissy’s legs. Crissy gasped as the nylon panties grazed along her diaphanously clad legs. The sensation was exquisite. She adored the feeling of her panties being pulled up over her pantyhose but it was no match for the wonderous delight of this matronly undergarment swishing on the vintage nylon stockings. Her cock began to become tumescent again. It wasn't just the exquisite feel of the silky stockings on her legs and the cool, sleek nylon panties on her genitals. Mrs Lane was quite a good looking woman for her age and with her heavy makeup, tight skirt-suit, heels and hose, she was the kind of woman that Crissy would like to look like if she had the skills. She was also the type of woman she was attracted to sexually.

As Beverley shimmied the slinky undergarment up Crissy’s legs she heard her sigh. She pulled the knickers up tight around Crissy’s crotch and buttocks and smoothed them out. She was hunched down concentrating on ensuring that Crissy’s seams were straight and that her panties did not become entangled in the garter snaps as she pulled them up Crissy’s legs. She was unaware that her own legs, clad in gossamer hose, were opened slightly and her skirt had ridden up and the Vee of her vintage rayon knickers was in full view. Crissy could smell Beverley’s perfume and her attractive face was looking up at her quizzically.

“What’s wrong dear?” Beverley asked looking at the anguished look on Crissy’s face.

Then she realised that Crissy was staring at her stocking-clad thighs and that her legs were open and her knickers were on display, the tight gusset moulded to the shape of her vulva.

“Oh dear. Elspeth sometimes had the same reaction when I helped her dress,” Beverley tutted as if it was nothing of great concern.

Crissy's erection was tenting her panties.

"We will have to do something about that before we put you in a skirt," Beverley said matter-of-factly.

Beverley dropped to her knees in front of Crissy and pulled down the front of her panties.

“We can’t have any of your juices staining your brand-new stockings and panties can we?” Beverley snatched up the discarded balled-up pantyhose and panties and shook the pantyhose free.

Beverley dabbed at the droplets of pre-ejaculate forming at eye of Crissy’s erect penis with the leg of the pantyhose and Crissy shuddered at the intense sensation that rippled along the shaft of her penis.

"Ok, let's deal with this, shall we?" Beverley said bluntly as if it was everyday occurrence.

Beverley rolled one leg of the pantyhose over Crissy's long appendage.

"The stocking will catch your mess," Beverley said as she smoothed the pantyhose leg out so that it was tightly swathed around Crissy’s cock.

She began to slide her fingers up and down Crissy’s phallus and Crissy became weak at the knees. A gentle tingling began to bloom in her groin as she looked down and at Beverley’s attractive face. Beverley’s perfectly manicured red fingernails wrapped around Crissy’s throbbing cock, stroking it sensuously, the diaphanous nylon eliciting a tingling in her penis that spread through her groin and centred in her lower belly.

The feel of the nylon pantyhose being rubbed against her his shaft and sensitive glans soon brought Crissy to a shattering climax. The initial eruption of scalding semen spewed from Crissy’s cock and burst through the nylon and spattered on the dusty floor and the remainer of her issue expelled itself into a glutinous puddle that stuck to the pantyhose.

"There; that's done," Beverley said, seemingly proud of accomplishing a onerous but essential task.

She carefully unrolled the leg of the pantyhose off Crissy’s cock and dabbed at the droplets of semen still dribbling from the eye.

"These pantyhose will have to go into the bin but I’ll replace them with better quality items," Beverley commented and got to her feet.

Crissy just stood there dumbfounded, her flaccid penis hanging over the waistband of her panties until Beverley tucked it away.

“I see you know how to tuck dear so could you do that for me now and we can proceed,” Beverley picked up a padded brassiere off the dresser while Crissy pushed her testes into her inguinal canals and pushed her empty scrotum and flaccid penis between her legs..

The brassiere was the same colour as Crissy’s new panties and trimmed with the same lace. The cups were padded slightly and Beverley helped Crissy put on the brassiere and adjusted the shoulder straps so that it fit perfectly.

“What you just did. You said you sometimes did it for Elspeth?” Crissy was still flabbergasted at what had just happened.

“Look, as girl I went to Saint Patrick’s college and the nuns were very strict. We were expected to keep our virginity until marriage and the nun’s threatened to check us but never did,” Beverley explained.

“By the time I was eighteen I was pretty rebellious and a lot of us had boyfriends who we would sneak out to see. Of course those young men wanted what young men wanted and some girls, me included, would offer hand relief. Some us even took it up the wrong ‘un,” Beverley giggled like she was still that schoolgirl so many years ago.

“The wrong ‘un?” Crissy looked bemused.

“Oh come on… anal sex… surely?” Beverley didn’t need to finish the sentence when she saw Crissy blush.

“Well we did what we did to hold onto our boyfriends and Mister Lane had the pleasure of deflowering me on my wedding night,” Beverley was once again all business.

“Now lets get you into that skirt and blouse and then do something about your hair and makeup,” Beverley began to undress the mannequin.

The black pencil skirt fitted Crissy admirably as did the blouse and Beverley sat Crissy down at the vanity, put a hairdresser’s cape around her to protect her clothing while Beverley plucked her eyebrows, styled her hair as best she could and showed Crissy how to apply the cosmetics to get the same effect as Beverley’s.

“That’s the best I can do in the time we have left, now lets try on the heels,” Beverley took a pair of black, patent-leather, four inch stilettos from one of the shoe boxes.

They were too big but the second pair fitted perfectly. Beverley led Crissy to one of the dressing rooms so that she could see herself in the full-length mirror. Crissy was stunned at what she saw. A very pretty, sophisticated young lady dressed in retro fashion stared back at her. Crissy felt like a real woman for the very first time as she stared at the shapely young woman dressed in the retro black pencil skirt with the high waist and provocative 10" back slit that accentuated her sexy, curve-hugging silhouette. The mauve satin blouse with the buttoned down front complemented the skirt. Her legs looked amazing in the fully-fashioned stockings and high heels.

“I don’t know how to thank you Beverley,” Crissy began to tear-up.

“Don’t you cry and ruin that makeup. You will have to underdress and change back into the clothes that you came in with. I’ll put everything else in a shopping bag,” Beverley led Crissy back to where the adventure had begun.

“How much do I owe you for all the this stuff?” Crissy asked as she underdressed and changed back into her denim skirt, tube top and sandals.

“Nothing dear. I’m closing the store for the last time tomorrow and you are welcome to have everything gratis. You brought back some fond memories for me and that’s good enough, now hurry up or you will miss your train,” Beverley had naturally assumed that Crissy was travelling by train and Crissy of no intention of correcting her.

There was no way that she was going to admit that she was hitching her way to Cairns, paying her way by blowing the trucker. Beverley packed everything into a very large shopping bag with the Lane’s Clothing Emporium logo on the side. As they walked past the small health and beauty section of the store Beverley stopped briefly and searched for something.

“Let me just pop these in for you dear. If you ever do get around to exploring your new-found femininity further, you are going to need them,” Beverley dropped two small rectangular cardboard boxes into shopping bag, kissed Crissy on the cheek and led her to the door.

She waved Crissy goodbye and closed the door and turned the sign in the window from open to closed.

Crissy stood on the pavement in the cool winter sunshine and wondered if she had dreamed the whole thing. The shopping bag in her hand gave testament that she hadn’t. She made her way to the bus stop carrying her duffle in one hand and the oversize shopping bag in the other and caught the bus back to the highway bus stop. Steve’s rig was pulled up on the other side of the Bruce Highway, the hazard lights flashing and Crissy skipped across the road to find that Steve had opened the passenger door for her.

“I thought you might not be coming back,” Steve said as he took her duffle and Shopping bag from her so she could scramble into the cab.

Crissy leaned over and gave Steve a long passionate kiss.

“Of course I was coming back, I just got waylaid by a lovely lady at a shop in town,” Crissy didn’t dawdle she climbed into the sleeper and pulled the curtain halfway closed.

“Your hair and makeup looks different. Did you get a makeover or something?” Steve asked pointing to the sleeper, not expecting an answer.

Steve had to drive past the depot and this part of the highway was a choke point for trucks heading north and south and Crissy understood that Steve couldn’t be seen with a hitchhiker in his cab.

“I have a mandatory rest stop but I usually just sleep in the sleeper to save money but there’s a pub with a cheap little motel behind it just off the highway about five clicks down the road where I can park my rig. Like I said, I’d like to have some time with you outside the confines of the truck so what would you say to a night in a comfortable bed? I’ll shout us some takeaway and I’ll get us some booze from the pub,” Steve called out over the roar of the engine as he worked the gears to get the road train rolling.

Crissy replied that it would be wonderful and as much as she wanted to explore the contents of the shopping bag, she lay back on the funky bedding and started to doze. She hadn’t slept properly since leaving Sydney. Crissy was awakened by the silence. She had grown accustomed to the constant drone of the diesel engine and the growl of big tyres on bitumen She pulled back the curtain and peeped out.

The road train was parked in a dusty hardpacked clay clearing surrounded by old gum trees. A cinderblock single-story rectangular building was visible through the trees. The building looked exactly what it was: a cheap roadside motel, the rooms delineated by faded blue doors, rectangular windows shaded by cheap ratty curtains and outside of each room was a small metal circular table with two metal chairs. There were overloaded station wagons parked outside three of the rooms, the potholed carpark littered with weathered cigarette butts. A faded sign hanging from a wire-grid fence announced: Pool Closed Until Further Notice.

Steve opened the door to the cab and poked his head in. He was dangling a room key.

“Grab your stuff. I got us the room at the end of the block, closest to the truck parking area,” Steve looked pleased with himself.

Steve grabbed an overnight bag and Crissy grabbed her duffle and the oversize shopping bag and gingerly climbed out of the cab. Steve copped a fleeting glace of her red satin panties as she clambered out of the rig, disappointed that she was now barelegged but mostly be swivelled his head to and fro searching for anyone looking their way. There were three other trucks parked nearby, none of them in the same livery as his trucking company, but the trucking fraternity liked to gossip over their CB radios so he was being cautious.

He ushered Crissy along the dusty path to the room at the very end of the cinderblock building and bustled her inside.

“I need you to stay in the room Crissy, you understand why right?” Steve was already undressing and Crissy hoped he wasn’t intent on sex; she was barely awake.

“I’ll shower first and then I’ll head over to the pub and get us a feed and some beer, unless you want wine or something,” Crissy could tell by Steve’s tone that he expected her to drink beer, which was fine with her, she guessed that the wine in a place like this would come in a box.

Crissy’s mother had drunk cask-wine, which she called a ‘headache-in-handbag’, before she met her lover who introduced her to the joys of chilled Oyster Bay Sauvignon Blanc before he whisked her away to the land of the long white cloud.

Steve took his toiletry bag and a change of clothes into the bathroom while Crissy explored the room. The bed was little more than a double but the sheets were clean as was the bedspread. There was a tiny wooden table shoved against one wall with two wooden chairs either side, a minifridge with a small microwave on top, an electric kettle, a television bolted to the top of a dresser facing the bed and a couple of cheap prints hanging from the babyshit coloured walls. It was not quite depressing but certainly shabby. If you listened carefully you could hear the television sets in the other occupied rooms and the occasional raucous laugh from the pub situated at the other end of the motel. The place smelled vaguely of fried food and stale beer overlaid with cleaning products.

Crissy wasn’t paying so she couldn’t complain, although she knew that Steve expected sex in return for the lodgings and she was a little surprised that he hadn’t demanded a blowjob already. She studied the pub’s takeaway menu whilst she listened to Steve singing, or more rightly butchering, C.W. McCall’s ‘Convoy’ while he showered. He came out of the bathroom freshly showered, his hair still damp, wearing fresh clean King Gee khaki shorts and a work-shirt. Gone were his work boots, replaced by rubber thongs*. He smelled of deodorant and cheap cologne and Crissy was delighted that he had at least made an effort and showered but he hadn’t bothered shaving.

“What do you want?” Steve asked, nodding at the menu in her hand as he thumbed through his wallet.

“Whatever you're having,” Crissy realised that she was ravenous because she hadn't eaten anything in Gladstone.

“Ok, burger with the lot, chips and a carton of Fourex it is. Don’t forget to stay inside. You can smoke in here if you want,” Steve pointed to the circular aluminium ashtray on the table and hurried out the door.

Crissy took the shopping bag into the bathroom and found a place on the floor that Steve hadn’t soaked to put it down. She decided that she would wear some of the lingerie that Beverley had given her and make herself pretty and sexy for Steve. She owed him that much.

Crissy reached into the shopping bag and the first thing she found were the two small cardboard boxes that Beverley had tossed in at the last minute. She lowered the toilet seat cover, sat down, and studied them. The first was a blue and white box with the words ‘K-Y Jelly’ written on it. Crissy knew what it was but it was the second box that intrigued her. Inside was a red soft-plastic squeeze ball with a hard white plastic nozzle that threaded onto the squeeze ball. Crissy recalled some of the things that Beverley Lane had said…

“Albert Tanner was like you, you see. It was rumoured that he liked to dress up as a lady named Elspeth and entertain gentlemen who had a penchant for that kind of thing.”

“Some us even took it up the wrong ‘un.”

“If you ever do get around to exploring your new-found femininity further, you are going to need them.”

Crissy paled at first. Then she remembered what Steve had said…

“I’ve got a mandated rest stop in Mackay so we can really get into it Crissy,” What did he mean by ‘really get into it?’

She knew that Crissy was the first transvestite that Steve had ever been with and he was certainly smitten by her. Did he want more than oral relief? Crissy knew about anal sex and had sometimes dreamed of being ‘taken’ by an anonymous ‘Prince Charming’ but she had never really considered it. Although Christian had had his fair share of sex with girls, until Crissy met Steve she had never had a sexual encounter. She certainly liked sucking Steve’s cock. She liked that he liked her doing it and she loved it when she induced his orgasm and she had become sexually aroused whilst doing so. But wouldn’t anal sex hurt? Surely Elspeth wouldn’t ‘entertain gentlemen’ like that if it did?

She studied the instructions that came with the douche, set her resolve, stripped naked and followed the instructions word for word. When the water ran clear for the third time she figured she had succeeded in achieving the desired result. She put on the shower cap provided by the motel and took a shower and brushed her teeth then she stood in front of the mirror and studied her face. There was scarcely a hair to be seen on her cheeks and chin. The few that had been there had been plucked free by Beverley when she shaped her brows.

She opened the cosmetics case that Beverley had given her and studied the makeup palette and other cosmetics then went to work trying her best to achieve the same results that Beverley had, then she styled her hair. She put on the garterbelt, fully-fashioned stockings and the lace trimmed full-cut white nylon panties but didn’t bother to tuck. She decided to dispense with the brassiere and instead she put on the red satin negligée with the spaghetti shoulder straps and stepped into her brand new high heels. She doused herself with perfume and looked at herself in the mirror.

Crissy looked stunning and very sexy.

She snatched up the K-Y jelly and went into the room and lay on the bed, posing provocatively, waiting for Steve. She was already semi-erect in anticipation but extremely nervous.

“Sorry I’m late. I ran into a mate in the pub and had to have a beer with him,” Steve muttered as he burst through the door carrying a carton of beer under one arm and holding a paper sack filled with hot food in his other hand.

At first he didn’t notice Crissy lying on the bed and when he did he was speechless. Steve was not a very well educated man but he understood the words coquettish, provocative, seductive and enticing. Crissy, sprawled seductively on the bed with the red satin negligée clinging to her trim body, accentuating the slight swell of her belly and the curve of her buttocks, gave meaning to those words. The hem of her negligée rode high on her thighs revealing her long coltish legs sheathed in those dark-seamed, smoky-welted nylon stockings, her feet shod in the burnished black stilettos, her pretty face expertly enhanced with smoky eye makeup and inviting red lipstick, framed by her tousled blonde hair, was a sight to behold.

Steve hastily put the beer in the fridge and put the food on the table, stripped naked and approached the bed, his erect prong steering him towards the young woman he desired more than any other woman he had met in his life.

Sandy and the truck stop prossies were nowhere near his thoughts as he lay down beside Crissy and placed his hand on her hip and kissed her softly, his only thoughts were of what he wanted to do to Crissy. He wanted to roll Crissy on her back and mount her and ravish her but he controlled himself. This delectable creature was something to be slowly savoured, not devoured.

Steve still felt some reticence. He knew that under the bewitching makeup, the tantalising lingerie and enticing perfume that Crissy was different. But she was exotically and erotically different and she intrigued him. He wondered what it would be like when he entered her, if that was what she intended him to do. Maybe she was just going to kiss, cuddle and fellate him but if that was the case, why was there a tube of K-Y Jelly sitting in a prominent position on the bedside table?

They kissed softly at first, enjoying the space afforded by the hotel bed instead of the cramped confines of the sleeper. Steve gently fingered the soft satin of Crissy’s negligée and then his hand moved to her buttocks and he gently squeezed them, the negligée slid across her nylon panties making a faint hissing noise. His cock pressed against her belly, rubbing on the satiny fabric which elicited little tingles of delight from his sensitive organ. Crissy could feel his warm, viscous pre-ejaculate soak into the garment and moisten her flesh.

Crissy kissed him passionately and he took her in his arms and held her tight, delighting in the feeling of her tiny body wrapped in nylon and satin, drawing in her scent, tasting her lipstick and her sweet mouth as their tongues intertwined. Crissy felt the heft of his hard belly pressing against her body and his rigid pole poking her belly. He tasted of beer and cigarettes, his whiskers rasped against her soft cheeks, his cheap cologne did little to mask the scent of the pub. She loved the manliness of him, it amplified her own femininity. She felt a little vulnerable and helpless. This big, strong, older man was holding her tight, kissing her with unbridled passion, squeezing her soft buttocks, his cock hard and alive, dribbling precum, pressing into her. She felt his need and knew that she was soon to be deflowered.

Steve was aware that Crissy was erect, he could feel the silhouette of her cock through her panties against his body. When she had sat in the cab dressed in her little denim miniskirt he had been fascinated by the almost perfect Vee presented between her legs when her skirt rode up. Her pubic mound presented just like a woman’s pudenda in those delightful red satin panties; what they called in the trucking fraternity ‘a VW bonnet’ also known as a camel toe. He’d fleetingly wondered how she managed to do that but whatever technique she had used had been discarded, her cock pushed against the silky fabric of her panties and some primeval impulse was urging him to touch it.

“I’ve never done this before. Please be gentle,” Crissy managed to whisper around his fervent kisses.

Steve had no idea if Crissy was telling the truth and he really didn’t care. She had told Steve that before she climbed into his Mack she had never been with a man but if that was the truth she had certainly learnt how to suck a dick pretty quickly but the idea of taking her anal virginity incensed his ardour.

They had been lying side by side and Steve rolled Crissy onto her back, holding onto her so that he was lying on top of her. Crissy instinctively opened her legs. They hadn't broken the kiss, their lips were still locked together, their tongues flittering but now Steve’s cock was pressing against Crissy’s and she gasped into his mouth as he began to frot. The sensation of his hard cock rubbing against hers through the gossamer layer of translucent nylon panty was overwhelmingly erotic.

Steve too, was gratified by the sensuality that frottage induced. Deep inside his lizard brain a fleeting thought surfaced that what he was doing was ‘gay’ but he astutely reasoned that this gorgeous, sexy, feminine creature lying underneath him was no man. Issues of gender and sexuality were of no concern to Steve at this moment in time, he was too enraptured with the pleasure he was experiencing, as was the girl lying under him.

It was as if Crissy could read his mind because she too fleetingly wondered if what she was doing was right but feeling Steve’s weight on her tiny body, the heft of his hard belly pressing into hers, his cock fretting against her panty-clad organ, his passionate kisses and embraces, chased away any feelings of foreboding. She reached out for the K-Y Jelly and opened the cap one-handed, then she lifted her legs so that her buttocks were exposed. She locked her ankles behind Steve’s back and squeezed a globule of the emollient onto her fingers, snaked her hand inside her panties, and lubricated her sphincter. Then she squeezed another gobbet of the salve onto her fingers and glazed Steve’s phallus and she heard him gasp and hoped that she hadn’t overstimulated him into a premature ejaculation.

Steve was nearly overcome with excitement when Crissy lubricated his manhood and had to concentrate hard not to ejaculate before he was inside her. Thankfully Crissy wasted no time sliding his cock inside the gusset of her panties and positioning it at the entrance to her puckered bud. She too was close to extremis, holding back her climax with difficulty.

She looked up at him with those pretty smoky eyes filled with wonder, excitement and also a little circumspection and nodded at him.

Steve’s cock slid into Crissy’s anus like a slick rod snaking it’s way into a tight satiny burrow. Crissy felt only a fleeting second of pain, just a slight, sudden sting as Steve’s cock pierced her tight bud and then the pleasure receptors in her sphincter, anus and prostate lit up with an intensity that she had never experienced in her life. She hugged Steve, raking her nails across his back, shimmying her stocking-sheathed legs along his flanks, kissing him deeply. A muffled cry escaped her as she felt Steve’s cock fill her void and then she felt the organ inside her suddenly pulsate as Steve ejaculated inside her.

Crissy orgasmed right along with him, creaming her panties, her cock sliding across his hard belly as Steve rutted at her. Steve couldn’t hold back release and as soon as his cock slid into Crissy’s tight channel he ejaculated his essences deep in her rectum.

They clung to each other like shipwreck survivors, pawing and kissing each other, uttering obscenities as they orgasmed together in one joyous sensual earth-shattering explosion of lust and passion.

Steve felt Crissy’s hot spend anoint his belly and far from being repelled by it, it inflamed his desire. Usually after coitus he rolled off his wife or whatever truckstop lot-lizard he was fucking but his need to further pleasure himself and Crissy overcame his usual post-coital tristesse. He looked into Crissy’s eyes and saw tears sparkling in the corners but they were not tears of sorrow or regret, they were tears of joy.

She kissed him and whispered in his ear.

“Make love to me Steve. I want to feel that again,” and Steve did as he was told.

His organ remained fully erect and Steve began to fuck the beautiful, waiflike girl lying under him. His thick cock slid in and out of her tight anus, it’s passage eased by the K-Y Jelly and his own seminal secretions. Crissy lifted her bottom to meet his thrusts, her cock too was still fully engorged, tenting her cum-sodden panties. Steve’s cock ignited the synapses in her aching anus and her sphincter radiated freshets of delight as it girded Steve’s shaft. The head of his cock pressed against her prostate when he was fully inside her and she felt another orgasm slowly building.

Steve was in a world of carnal delight. Crissy’s pretty face was screwed up with concentration and her breathing was erratic and he knew that he had caused her to be so fully aroused. Her perfume invaded his nostrils, her mouth was eager to kiss him, her tongue a flickering dervish, her stockings caressed his sensitive flanks as she bucked and squirmed beneath him, impaling herself on his rigid rod. He could feel her hard penis pressed into his belly, her sodden panties grazing his flesh as she exuded every skerrick of pleasure from his body.

He was fucking her slowly, enjoying every second of their tryst, holding back his second climax until he knew that she was ready. Crissy dug her high heels into his flanks, like a rider urging on a stallion, and Steve obligingly began to fuck the little vixen harder and faster. He listened to her moan like a slattern as she rode his cock to another explosive climax. Her cock shuddered against his belly and he felt her scalding seed erupt through her panties. At the same time her anus undulated and it felt like silken-gloved fingers were milking his cock, expressing his seed into her tight slick channel. He orgasmed right along with her.

After they came down from their orgasmic highs Steve rolled off Crissy and snuggled up to her. She kissed him and ran her fingers along his hair-matted belly and down into his groin, taking his flaccid penis between her fingers and waggling it playfully.

“I never thought it would be like that,” she whispered.

“Me neither,” Steve surprised her when he squeezed her soft cock through her sodden panties.

“Remember a few days ago when you climbed into my truck and I told you that I was disappointed because you weren't a girl? Well forget I ever said that Crissy. I’ve never met anyone like you before and I feel so lucky to have met you,” Steve whispered into the fading light.

“You made me what I am Steve. You brought the woman out in me,” Crissy sighed.

“Also, I’m famished after all that fucking. I’ll microwave the food, you get the beer. We’ll eat in bed,” Crissy bounced up off the bed.

They ate and they talked and they drank a lot of beer but that didn’t effect Steve’s performance when they made love again. They slept the sleep of the satiated and when Steve woke her up at six in the morning he was hot for her. Crissy was still dressed in her lingerie and stockings and his cock had been pressed against her panty-clad ass most of the night. She made him wait under the pretext of needing to pee, which she did, but she also needed to use the douche again.

When she came out of the bathroom she was as horny as Steve was and she jumped on the bed and squatted over him and rode him cowgirl until they both orgasmed. Then it was time to shower and hit the road. Crissy toned down her makeup and put on the same denim skirt, tube top and sandals that she had been wearing since they left Brisbane but she was wearing fresh, new panties and at Steve’s insistence a pair of good quality pantyhose courtesy of Beverley Lane.

After two cups of instant coffee and a cigarette, what Steve called a ‘dingo’s breakfast’, they climbed into the truck and hit the road stopping only once for oral sex halfway to Cairns. Steve’s appetite for sex was insatiable but even he had limits.

To be continued

* Australian for flip-flops, jandals or zorries, depending on from where you hail.

Passenger Seat Princess - Chapter 2

Author:

Michele Nylons

Caution:

CAUTION: Sex / Sexual Scenes

Audience Rating:

EXPLICIT CONTENT

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Crossdressing

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Chapter Two – The House On The Hill

Cairns, Queensland, Australia – 1986

Steve parked the truck in Portsmith when they arrived in Cairns. The road on the very edge of town was next to the long wharf where raw sugar was loaded onto waiting freighters and delineated the point where semitrailers could no longer proceed into the city. During the last part of the journey, the highway had snaked through acres and acres of sugarcane as far as they eye could see, dotted by farmhouses and small coastal communities. Steve asked Crissy to stay in the sleeper whilst he walked a kilometre to the truck depot.

He was gone for about an hour and Crissy caught up on some sleep and when Steve came back he was smiling.

“I quit my job,” Steve announced as he climbed into the sleeper.

“What do you mean?” Crissy was puzzled.

“I’m not going be driving long-haul out of Sydney anymore. A mate of mine runs freight between Cairns and Karumba. I’m going to drive for him,” Steve sounded excited but Crissy was confused.

“It’s less than a day’s run each way. I can get a place in Karumba and work out of there. I’ll be close to you,” Steve grinned.

“What about Sydney?” Crissy asked.

“In Sydney I rent a shithole apartment where I live by myself. There’s nothing keeping me there. Once I’m settled in Karumba I’ll fly back down south, cancel my lease, load my ute and drive back to Karumba. What do you think?” Steve said enthusiastically.

“You're not doing this for me are you Steve? We’ve only just met and anyway I’m supposed to stay with my Aunt Greta and get a job on a trawler,” Crissy tried to talk some sense into Steve.

“Look, I’ve got a load leaving tomorrow so I’ll take you to Karumba. You can go and meet your Auntie and sort something out. She owns a caravan park right?” Steve reasoned.

“I’ll rent a caravan from her and you decide what you want to do but I’m only interested in Cristina, not Christian. Let’s just give it a go and see what happens,” Steve reached for Crissy and kissed her softly.

“Okay,” Crissy sighed, feeling quite overwhelmed.

“I’ve got to break up the road train here. A couple of trucks from the company will take the other two trailers to the freight yard. I got us a room at the Cairns City Motel on Lake Street. I’ll unhitch the trailers and drop you off,” Steve jumped out of the cab and got to work.

Steve unhitched the road train and drove into town and parked in the loading zone near the motel. He checked into the motel and gave Crissy a key.

“Cairns is a vibrant, tolerant community with lots and lots of tourists from all over the world. You can get around as Crissy without being hassled. Check out The Esplanade and do some shopping. I’m going to be a couple of hours,” Steve explained.

Crissy took her duffle and her big shopping bag, bypassed reception and went straight to the room. It was quite an improvement on the shitty room they had shared the previous evening. She put her things away, shouldered her purse and stepped outside to explore Cairns. Even though it was the middle of winter, or ‘The Dry’ as they called it up north, the day was balmy and Crissy had taken off her pantyhose and shaved her legs, even though they didn’t really need it.

Steve was right, the streets were crowded with an eclectic mix of locals, tourists, itinerant workers of all persuasions. Crissy did get looked at with equal amounts of curiosity and appreciation as she made her way along the mall and down to The Esplanade and walked along beachfront but no one bothered her. She took some coins from her purse, summoned up her courage and called Aunt Greta from a public phone.

“I thought I’d be hearing from you soon Christian. Billy told me all about what happened. He’s such a prude my brother,” Greta said when Crissy told Aunt Greta that she was in Cairns but not the circumstances that had got her there.

“Your mother told me that you had been wearing her clothes and even back then I thought there might have been some nancy in you,” Greta chuckled as if it was nothing

Crissy decided to go all in.

“I’m living full-time as Crissy now Aunt Greta. I decided to be true to myself during the journey to Cairns. I met a lovely lady in Mackay who understood exactly who I was and I’ve been travelling with an older man, a truckdriver, who treats me just like a girl,” Crissy waited for the phone to explode in her hand.

“I bet he does Crissy. I can only imagine,” Greta replied satirically but there was no explosion.

“Look, I’m not going to pass judgement on you. I’ve lived a rather, shall we say, excentric life myself. Come on up to Karumba and we will see what we will see. I obviously can’t get you a job on trawler as Crissy. You will either be fucked to death or beaten to death, depending on who the skipper is,” Greta chuckled, although the thought of being gang-fucked by the crew or bashed by them was not a thing Crissy felt was comical.

“Can my friend stay at your caravan park when he gets there?” Crissy asked, she did not think the word ‘boyfriend’ was appropriate.

“Yes your truckie can stay. I’ll book him in as soon as we get off the phone. Is he the jealous type?” Greta asked, which threw Crissy for a loop.

“What do you mean is he the jealous type? I don’t know, I have only known him for a few days,” Crissy replied cautiously.

“Never mind. There’s another job opportunity for you that I just thought of. You would be working for me here at the caravan park and you need not worry about living full-time as Crissy to do it. I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Greta hung up the phone and if Crissy was perplexed before, now she was dumbfounded.

Crissy found herself back on Lake Street and she wondered along it until she came to Bolands, a quaint old building inside of which she located a department store. The clothing that she had been given by Beverley at Lane’s in Mackay was hardly suitable for day wear in the tropical north, although Crissy would have desperately liked to go out and about in the black pencil skirt, mauve satin blouse, nylons and heels that Beverley had gifted her.

She found some nightwear, some skirts and tops more suitable to the climate and a couple of pairs of sandals that she liked and on a whim also selected a one-piece swimming costume. She was a little nervous about using the dressing rooms to try them on but no one seemed perturbed by her presence. She complimented herself on being passable to most people and dipped into the money her father had given her before she left. So far she’d had a free ride and Aunt Greta seemed to have a job lined up for her so why not spend some money?

Back at the motel Steve was waiting for her and hungry for sex. He was lying naked on the bed, his cock fully erect. She was aware that he was studying her as he lazily stroked his penis.

“More shopping?” he pointed to the shopping bags with the Bolands logo on them.

“I needed more clothes. You want me to be Crissy full-time and all I have that is suitable for daywear is this skirt and top,” Crissy dropped the bags on the floor.

“You’re not wearing pantyhose,” Steve sounded disappointed.

“It’s too fucking hot babe but it’s air conditioned in here. Would you like me to put some on?” Crissy said and realised that she had used the soubriquet ‘babe’ for the first time.

“Yeah, just some nylons and panties then come join me on the bed,” Steve smiled at her salaciously and waggled his cock at her.

“I’m not clean, we can’t fuck,” Crissy decided to be upfront about it.

If Steve wanted a relationship with her then he might as well know about the vagaries of being with a transvestite. She stripped and Steve saw her naked for the first time. He studied her lithe, tanned body. With her diminutive physique, pretty face enhanced by makeup, her shoulder-length sun-bleached hair, her long legs, the little swell of her belly and her full, rounded buttocks, she looked like a flat-chested girl, except of course for her genitalia. Steve reminded himself of the age difference between them. Crissy was nineteen and he was thirty five.

“Who says I want to fuck?” Steve watched as Crissy sat on one of the two cheap dining chairs and rolled on a pair of sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose and then pulled on a pair of pristine, white full-cut satin panties.

The front of her panties bulged with the not unsubstantial girth of her penis and once again Steve was amazed that Crissy could tuck that thing in such a way that she presented an almost perfect pudenda. He was also amazed that it didn’t faze him that she had a penis. A week ago he would have been revolted by it but now he was curious. He’d felt Crissy’s hard cock pressing against his belly when they fucked and felt her ejaculate on him when she came. He wondered what it might be like to touch it.

“Come over here darling, lets cuddle and see what happens. We don’t have to fuck,” he smiled at her and Crissy sprayed herself liberally with perfume and joined him on the bed.

She was acutely aware that he used the soubriquet ‘darling’. Their relationship was changing. She was no longer just Steve’s sex doll, paying her way north with sex. She meant something to him.

Steve smiled at Crissy and she felt herself melt a little. Steve was no male model. At best he could be described as ruggedly handsome, with his shock of unkempt hair, hairy muscled torso and hard beer-belly. His manners left a lot to be desired and his hygiene wasn’t perfect but Crissy could tell that he adored her and she liked him. He was, of course, the first man that she had been with. For the time being at least, Steve would do.

Steve pulled her into his arms and began to kiss her and she returned his kisses.

"You really are gorgeous you know, I’m a very lucky man," Steve smiled at her again and lowered his face to hers.

Steve took his time, letting their passions build. He kissed her closed mouth, his lips just brushing hers. He held her lightly, their bodies not quite touching. He would break the kiss intermittently and gaze into her sparkling blue eyes and shower her with compliments and then start kissing her all over again.

Steve pressed his lips a little harder and pulled her closer, their bodies just touching. He continued to kiss her, opening his lips slightly and Crissy opened hers. His breath was sweet and she was grateful that he had showered and brushed his teeth. He was wearing a very masculine aftershave, Old Spice or something similar. Crissy snuggled into him and she could feel the strength in his arms and Steve slipped the tip of his tongue into her mouth.

They kissed softly like that and slowly they eased their tongues deeper into each other's mouths and Steve pulled her tightly against him and rested one hand on her buttocks. Crissy gasped; she could feel the heft of his growing erection against her belly but Steve wasn't being assertive or demanding like he usually was. She could tell that he was hankering for sex but he seemed to be in no rush. Crissy liked this more affectionate side of Steve. The deal had always been that he could use her for his pleasure in exchange for letting her ride in his truck but something had changed in his demeanour and she liked it.

Crissy wrapped herself around his body like a cat; she interlaced her fingers behind his neck and hooked a leg around his and pressed her body against him and rubbed a little. The smell and feel of him made Crissy feel so feminine and also aroused her. The presence of Steve’s erect cock against her body amplified her feelings of femininity; after all it was she who had caused his prodigious organ to bloat.

Steve held her tight and squeezed her buttocks, driving his tongue into her mouth. They kissed and ground against each other as their smouldering ardour ignited into flame. Steve rolled on top of her and smothered Crissy with his kisses. She felt both vulnerable and excited lying under him, feeling his pulsing manhood pressing into her while he kissed her fervently. His fingers were doing things to her legs that felt like a thousand butterflies had escaped and were fluttering their wings on her silken-hosed thighs. When Steve guided her hand to his prodigious erection she took it in hand, feeling the smooth girth of it. It was steely hard but velvety to touch and globules of precum dripped from the eye.

Steve’s hand went down into her crotch and he began to stroke Crissy's cock through her panties which surprised her. It was the first time he had actually handled her penis. He grasped the shaft of her penis through her panties and pantyhose and began to slowly stroke it and Crissy mewled and shuddered under him. Their kisses became more passionate and insistent. Steve slipped his hand inside the waistband of her pantyhose and his fingers found her buttocks and his middle finger circled her sphincter and Crissy baulked.

“I said no anal! I’m not prepared,” she whispered.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m not going to do anything like that,” but Steve’s fingertip continued to circle her sphincter, gently massaging her puckered bud and Crissy wriggled and sighed because it felt so good.

Steve stroked her nylon-sheathed cock and kissed her deeply as he slowly circled her anal cleft, which felt delightful. True to his word he didn’t even try to push his finger inside her. She wasn’t sure if Steve could control himself so she deftly removed his hand from her ass but she smiled at him while she did so.

“Why don’t I use my mouth on you. You’ve been a good boy and you deserve a blowjob,” Crissy amazed herself at how brazen she had become.

She felt almost whorelike.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Steve smiled mischievously at her and with agility that she didn’t know he possessed, he flipped himself around so that his cock was level with her face.

They were suddenly in the sixty-nine position and Steve began to kiss her thighs and Crissy shuddered with delight, then Steve licked her cock through her satin panties and Crissy groaned and then she took Steve’s cock into her mouth and began to suckle it.

She locked her lips around the base of the shaft and traced the veins with her tongue, flicking it over his frenulum and across his bloated glans. The sweet-salty taste of pre-ejaculate permeated her mouth and she groaned around the girth of his cock as Steve ripped a hole in her pantyhose and freed her penis from her panties. When Steve took her in his mouth she was astonished at his audacity.

Steve had never done anything like this. He’d experimented with another guy once when they were out camping. Steve was eighteen and they had jacked each other off and both swore never to speak of it again. This was different on so many levels. He’d received enough blowjobs to know what he liked so he used the same techniques on Crissy. He worked his tongue on Crissy’s sensitive glans while his lips suckled her shaft. Crissy was amazed that Steve was doing what he was doing but it felt wonderful and she reciprocated and began to slaver at Steve’s engorged penis. She held the base between her fingers and sucked and licked the proud member, her other hand found his scrotum and gently squeezed and stroked his testicles. She felt his cock judder and a continuous stream of precum dribbled from his cock which Crissy dutifully tasted and swallowed.

She could sense Steve’s impeding climax as he continued to work her cock with his mouth whilst stroking her thighs and buttocks and as the sensations comingled they invoked a sensory overload. Crissy drummed her heels on the bedspread indicating that she was close to extremis. Steve was close too and he wanted to make Crissy orgasm at the same time as himself and he suckled her shaft and worked his tongue on her glans, swallowing her sweet precum as it dribbled from her cock in a continual stream.

Crissy took the whole of Steve’s phallus into her mouth and suckled it as her fingers softly stroked and gently squeezed his scrotum and finally she was rewarded as Steve’s body convulsed on top of her and her mouth was suddenly flooded with his musky milt. She could feel his cock pulsing as it evacuated the contents of his scrotum into her mouth. She greedily swallowed the sweet, musky nectar whilst Steve continued to slaver at her cock and caress her nylon-sheathed thighs and her satiny pantied buttocks.

Crissy orgasmed and ejaculated into Steve’s mouth. She bucked and writhed under him whilst Steve continued to thrust his cock in and out of Crissy's mouth. They sucked and slavered on each other's organs until they were both spent.

Steve gently sucked Crissy’s cock until every skerrick of her issue was spent and Crissy reciprocated. Suddenly Steve climbed off her, turned around and lay down beside her. He kissed her and she could taste her sperm on his mouth and knew that he tasted his own sperm on hers. His semi-erect cock was pressed against her thigh and felt nice and he stroked her cheek tenderly and she wrapped her arms around him, comforted by his embrace in the afterglow of their orgasms.

“Do you want a drink? I got gin and tonic and there’s ice in the fridge. I got myself a sixpack of Fourex too,” Steve disengaged and climbed off the bed.

“What we just did Steve? Are you okay with that? You didn’t do it out of some sense of obligation did you?” Crissy had to ask.

Steve kissed the tip of her nose.

“I did it because I wanted to. Because I want you to know that I don’t have a problem with who you are. Of course if you tell any of my mates I will stringently deny it,” Steve ended the conversation jovially but Crissy knew the enormity of what had just happened.

Her opinion of Steve changed notably. The idea of him following her to Karumba at first seemed nonsensical and impulsive but now she wasn’t so sure.

While Steve fixed Crissy a drink she disappeared into the bathroom and Steve took a seat at the formica-topped table and popped his beer. He was taking a huge swallow when Crissy emerged from the bathroom dressed in her newly acquired bathing suit. The red lycra one-piece clung to her body showing off her lissom body, rounded buttocks and her nipples. With her tanned body and sun-bleached hair she looked like a young surfer girl. She’d left her makeup on and her face was pretty. Except for the absence of breasts, her body was perfect.

Steve was once again astounded at how she managed to present a perfect VW bonnet pudenda. He’d seen her cock up close and it was substantial.

“Let’s go for a swim,” Crissy smiled at him, reaching for her drink.

“Great idea, give me a sec,” Steve said downing his Fourex and dropping his clouts.

He rummaged around in his bag and produced a pair of Speedos which he shimmied into, his hard gut hanging over them a little.

“You can’t take glass into the pool area but I can take a couple of tinnies,” Steve held up the remains of his six-pack, which he dropped into a mini Esky.

Crissy downed her gin and tonic, grabbed the two complimentary pool towels and padded barefoot towards the door and Steve snatched up his cigarettes and followed her, appreciatively studying her arse in the lycra swimsuit. Their ground floor room opened onto the pathway which led to the pool. Crissy opened the gate and Steve headed to a table shaded by a beach umbrella located well away from a family who were frolicking in the pool.

Steve put the Esky in the shade, dropped his smokes on the table, and dived in the pool, totally disregarding the ‘No Diving’ sign displayed on the pool fence. His big body made a huge splash and the father of the family of four looked their way with a look of disapproval on his face.

“Come on kids, let’s get something to eat,” the daddy herded his tribe together and they gathered their things and left the pool area.

Crissy and Steve had the small pool to themselves and Crissy jumped in and squealed like a schoolgirl as she hit the tepid water. Crissy swam a few laps, glad of the exercise having been cooped up in the cab of the road train for the last few days while Steve got out and put two cans of beer in Styrofoam stubby-holders brought them to the waters edge. They huddled together in the corner of the pool closest to their table, shaded by an overhanging frangipani trees and sipped their beer. A five-petalled white and yellow blossom fell into the pool and Steve plucked it from the water and put it in Crissy’s hair.

“A beautiful flower for a beautiful girl,” he leaned in and kissed her.

Crissy wasn’t sure whether to be concerned or overjoyed by the changes in Steve Kessler over the last couple of days. He’d changed from a man bitterly disappointed that Crissy wasn’t a ‘real Sheila’ to a man who adored her and was content, no that’s not right, he was euphoric about her uniqueness.

“I’ve got to ask… how do you do that,” Steve slipped his hand between her legs and stroked the front of her swimsuit.

“You mean tucking?” Crissy smiled at him cheekily.

“Well you can feel my cock against my taint right?” she guided Steve’s had between her legs.

“It’s wrapped in my empty scrotum. I pushed my testes up inside me, in my inguinal canals. Everything is held in place by my panties and pantyhose or in this case my swimsuit. The tighter the better. That’s why I don’t wear G-strings, I need to keep everything secure,” Crissy smiled at him and was aware that Steve hadn’t removed his hand from between her legs.

“I hate those fucking arse-crack, dental floss undies. I like the type you wear. I like to feel your buttocks through your satin panties,” Steve squeezed a buttock with his free hand.

Steve leaned in close and nuzzled her neck.

“What happens if you get hard?” Steve began to stroke her cock through the swimsuit.

“You know what happens,” Crissy leaned in and kissed him as her penis began to become tumescent.

Steve felt Crissy’s cock begin to engorge and his own cock followed suit and he soon grew a significant bulge in the front of his Speedos. He noticed Crissy wince as her cock began to bloat and he well understood that it must be uncomfortable for her. He slipped his fingers inside the gusset of her swimsuit and freed her cock from between her legs. As he did so he felt her smooth, hairless scrotum suddenly fill as her testes descended. She smiled cheekily at him and kissed him again. Steve covered her package with the swimsuit and Steve softly caressed the outline of her cock through the lycra.

Her hand went to his groin and Crissy fondled Steve’s cock through his Speedos. His cock was fully tumescent and Crissy put her arms and legs around him and kissed him and then dropped one hand so she could stroke his cock.

“People might be watching,” Steve smiled salaciously.

“All they will see is us kissing and cuddling. People do that in public swimming pools all the time. They won’t be able to see what’s happening underwater, especially if we keep our bits inside our cossies,” Crissy squeezed Steve’s cock.

“Jeeze Crissy, you certainly have become brazen,” Steve grinned and began to stroke Crissy’s cock through the lycra.

“I wish we had brought the K-Y with us, the chlorine in this pool is harsh,” Crissy hissed.

“You want me to stop?” Steve swathed Crissy’s cock in the sleek lycra swimsuit fabric and she began to purr.

“Don’t you dare!” Crissy bit down his earlobe to encourage him and wrapped his cock in the nylon/elastane fabric of his Speedos which were looser that Crissy’s swimsuit.

“Keep that up and I’m going to cream my togs,” Steve gasped.

Crissy locked her mouth on Steve’s and inserted her tongue and began to masturbate him through his Speedos while Steve rubbed Crissy’s hard cock through her swimsuit. Steve came first, gasping into Crissy’s mouth as he orgasmed, closely followed by Crissy who wriggled and bucked as she climaxed. Except for the creamy, viscid tendrils that erupted from their swimsuits and drifted away in the water, to anyone looking, it would look like Steve and Crissy were just making out.

“That was naughty,” Crissy giggled.

“Hey you wanna go out tonight? I mean proper out, to a nightclub. I know a great place and even if anyone notices that you’re, well different, they won’t care,” Steve said excitedly.

Yes, Crissy did want to go out. First off, she really wanted to wear the skirt and blouse that Beverley had given her and secondly she was now so comfortable in her own skin that she felt confident enough to present herself in a social atmosphere.

“Where are you taking me?” Crissy still had her arms and legs locked around Steve’s body.

“The House On The Hill. It’s a nightclub and Ted Mulry Gang are playing a gig on their farewell tour,” Steve sounded excited and Crissy didn’t want to disappoint him and tell him that TMG was her father’s favourite band but not hers.

“Sounds great Steve,” Crissy kissed him appreciatively.

“Hey! You two! This is a family environment, if you wanna kiss and cuddle go to your room!” the manager yelled at them from behind the pool fence.

The daddy and his tribe of kids were standing beside the motel manager with smug smiles on their faces.

“Let’s go and have drink and a smoke and then I need a nap,” Steve helped Crissy climb the ladder out of the deep end of the pool.

Crissy had tucked again and there was no evidence of their sexual adventures other than a few wisps of gooey splooge floating towards the skimmer box.

“You should be ashamed of yourself. She’s young enough to be your daughter,” the manger hissed at Steve as he walked past him.

“You're just jealous,” Steve hissed back.

“What did the manager say to you?” Crissy asked as she lit them both a cigarette when they sitting under the shade of the frangipani tree.

“Nothing that matters,” Steve took the proffered cigarette but the comment had shaken him a little.

He took two beers from the Esky and they drank them and watched the family take over the pool again. Another family came through the pool gate and settled at a table not far away from them.

“Time for that nap,” Steve said standing up and gathering their things.

They slept most of the afternoon and into the early evening when Crissy was awakened by Steve who had just come out of the shower. He had a towel around his ample gut and was splashing himself with Old Spice, his ‘out on the town’ clothes were laid out on the bed.

Crissy padded to the bathroom. She showered and took her time perfecting her hair and makeup. Before showering she did what was necessary to ensure that she was ready, knowing Steve would want to fuck her after their night out. She was looking forward to it too. At nineteen years of age her libido was extreme and Steve had opened a whole new world of sexual pursuits that she had come to enjoy. Who would have thought that having a penis slipped into your jacksie could invoke the most powerful orgasms imaginable?

Steve sat on a chair watching, enjoying the spectacle as Crissy took her time dressing, ensuring that her stocking welts were at the same height and the seams were straight before tucking and putting on a pair of translucent black full-cut panties and matching padded brassiere. She buttoned the mauve satin blouse and shimmied into the black pencil skirt, tucking the blouse into the high waist before zipping it closed. The skirt hugged her curves and the 10" back-slit flaunted her thighs and the dark welts of her stockings.

Crissy sprayed herself liberally with Dior Poison perfume. Beverley had popped a sample bottle of the intoxicating fragrance into her shopping bag at Lane’s. She put on her costume jewellery and slipped into her black, patent-leather, four inch stilettos and gave herself the once over. She pirouetted in front of Steve.

“How do I look?” she smiled at him seductively.

“You look so good I’m not so sure I want to take you out,” Steve smiled wanly at her.

“What’s wrong?” Crissy walked over and perched her buttocks on his knees.

“It’s something the hotel manager said to me at the pool. He said that I should be ashamed of myself. That you are young enough to be my daughter,” Steve sighed.

“Hey Steve! I’m an adult and I can make my own decisions. Don’t you think I realise how good I look since Beverley helped me in Mackay? I’ve seen the appreciative glances and leering. But as much as I’m flattered, I choose you. You’re the one who stuck with me, even when I was really just a boy in a skirt wearing sloppy makeup,” Crissy tousled his hair.

“I pretty much blackmailed you into having sex with me,” Steve admitted.

“And I made the decision to agree to that. I could have dumped you as soon as we arrived in Cairns and found another man to take to me to Karumba, I’m sure I could do that if I wanted but I chose to stay with you. I didn’t tell you to fuck off when you proposed moving to Karumba so you could be with me. I appreciate all you are giving up,” Crissy kissed the side of his mouth.

“All I’m giving up? A dead-end job driving trucks up and down the east coast, paying for sex with truckstop lot-lizards, getting old and fat?” Steve chuckled.

“You're thirty-five and good looking in a ruggedly handsome older Sean Connery kinda way. Except you have more hair than him of course,” Crissy mussed Steve’s hair, kissed his cheek and hopped off his lap.

“I didn’t get dressed like this to sit around a hotel room, so call us a fucking cab and let’s go to this nightclub,” Crissy crammed makeup, cigarettes and some cash into her little black clutch.

Steve picked up the phone and called Black and White Taxis and Crissy took his hand they walked out front of the hotel to wait for their ride. Steve was wearing jeans and a Miller western shirt with black boots and looked every inch the trucker that he was. He looked masculine and presentable and Crissy felt her attraction to him growing a little and more importantly she felt safe in his presence. He looked like a man not to be fucked with.

The House On The Hill was in full swing when they got there. Lights spilled out into the gardens and a wall of sound reverberated around the surrounding streets. To paraphrase Spinal Tap, Ted Mulry Gang had their amplifiers ‘turned up to eleven’ and were pounding out their old hits.

The crowd spilled out into the gardens and onto the street. They were an eclectic bunch of older rockers and young partygoers, dressed in everything from beachwear to finery. An undercurrent of marijuana mingled with the cigarette smoke. Steve fought his way to the bar where you could order whatever you wanted but most people ordered jugs of the ubiquitous XXXX Beer, or ‘Fourex’ as it known colloquially, or jugs of cane cutter’s cordial which is Bundaberg Rum and Coke. Steve ordered a jug of Bundy and Coke, took two plastic glasses and hauled Crissy through the crowd to a corner where at least you could hear yourself speak.

Within minutes of their arrival guys were approaching Crissy and asking her to dance but she politely declined the offers. She drank three glasses of Bundy in quick succession but Steve was taking his time. He did not want to be affected by brewer’s droop when they got back to the motel.

“Go and have a dance Crissy, don’t let me cramp your style. So long as you come home with me, I don’t mind one little bit,” Steve yelled in her ear over the music.

He had been watching Crissy sway her body and tap her feet to the music. The pop-rock of TMG might have been dated for someone Crissy’s age but the beat was infectious.

Crissy accepted the next offer she had to dance and Steve watched her merge into the throng of bodies stomping on the dancefloor. He kept a wary eye on her as she danced, moving from partner to partner, never settling with one guys for too long. Steve brought another jug of Bundy and Coke and Crissy came over and quickly drank another two glasses before returning to the dance floor and mingling with the crowd. She was now becoming inebriated but so were most of the crowd.

Crissy was having the time of her life. She was out and about for the first time socialising as her feminine self, her confidence building. She was enjoying the experience, the alcohol fuelling her gaiety and lowering her inhibitions. They had been there for a couple hours and Steve relaxed a little and struck up a conversation with another guy around his age. He still kept glancing over at Crissy but she seemed to be having a good time without him and that was fine but suddenly things got out of hand.

Crissy was surrounded by four young men who were dancing around her. TMG’s style of music encouraged ‘the stomp’ style of dancing and it was not unusual for people to dance in groups but Steve wondered if Crissy realised that the young men had effectively surrounded her. Ted Mulry announced that the band would be taking a short interval and the band fired up their break song which was the lewd version of Dinah, Dinah Show us your Leg.

The boys surrounding Crissy began to chant the words along with the band… Dinah, Dinah show us your leg, Dinah, Dinah show us your leg, Dinah, Dinah show us your leg… a yard above your knee. while Crissy, now quite intoxicated, began to slowly raise the hem of her skirt. Some of the other girls on the dancefloor were doing the same and at first it was no big deal then Steve saw the boys close in on Crissy.

They became very excited as Crissy gradually raised the hem of her skirt high enough to show off her stocking-tops and garters. Then one of the young men reached out and put his hand under her skirt and made a grab for her crotch.

Steve was pushing his way through the crowd when he saw the young man’s facial expression suddenly change from desire, to confusion then to anger and he heard the boy yell something obscene which was lost in the cacophony of music and chanting but included the words ‘tranny’ and ‘cunt’ and then the lad pushed Crissy to the ground and the other young men closed in, looking to kick Crissy whilst she was on the floor.

Steve decked the boy who had pushed Crissy over with a roundhouse punch and then flattened his mate with an uppercut. The other two young men backed off when they saw the anger in Steve’s face. Steve helped Crissy to her feet and manhandled her over to their table where he shoved her purse into her hands and began to bulldoze his way through the crowd with Crissy in tow whilst the bouncers closed in on them.

He and Crissy made it to the door and bolted down the steps and ran off into the tropical gardens surrounding the venue. Far from being upset, Crissy was laughing and Steve pulled her into a grove of fig trees, looking back over his shoulder to see if the bouncers had followed them.

“That was pretty fucking stupid!” Steve displayed anger for the first time.

But Crissy was far from being angry. Steve coming to her rescue and punching out the men who were going to assault her had turned her on.

“You're my hero!” Crissy threw herself at Steve and wrapped her arms and legs around him.

Crissy might have been diminutive but she caught Steve by surprise and he fell into the hollowed out trunk of a strangler fig. Crissy smashed her lips against his and kissed him fervently. She tasted of rum, Coca-Cola and cigarettes. She snatched at his trousers fumbling with his belt buckle and fly.

“What the fuck Crissy? We’re in someone’s garden and the bouncers might still be looking for me,” Steve broke the kiss but Crissy still clung to him.

“Shut up and fuck me Steve. No one can see us here and who gives a fuck if they can, I’ve never felt so horny,” Crissy reached into his jeans and freed his member.

Crissy might have been drunk and behaving badly but she looked sexy as hell and clinging to him like that, with her skirt hiked up, her stocking-clad legs wrapped around him, her hot sweet mouth on his and her fingers ferreting around in his crotch, Steve’s anger dissipated and was replaced by lust. He supported her weight by gripping her upper thighs and pushed her back into the hollow while she pawed at his tackle, inciting a very strong erection.

“We don’t have any lube,” Steve grunted as Crissy wriggled against him, moaning like a slattern.

“Improvise Steve. Spit on your hand or something. I want you and I want you now!” Crissy bit down on his earlobe which hurt a little but incited his lust.

He let go of Crissy’s leg, spat in his hand and pushed Crissy’s hand away from his groin so he could work the spittle into his hard shaft. Crissy clawed at his cock, which was wet with spit and precum. She guided it inside the leghole of her panties. Steve put his hand back on her thigh and supported her weight, pressing his body into her, her hungry mouth locked on his. He could feel her cock distending her panties which were wet from her precum.

Crissy nestled the glans of Steve’s penis against her sphincter and screwed her eyes shut as Steve pushed hard and impaled her on his steely rod. It slid into her, stretching her sphincter and dilating her tight anus, the spit providing hardly any lubrication but Crissy locked her legs and arms tighter around Steve and took the pain.

The burning in Crissy’s anus became a painful erotic distraction as her pleasure receptors lit up. Her sphincter ringed with a bitter fiery sensation as Steve’s cock stretched it open and a dull ache radiated from her anus when Steve was fully inside her. Steve’s belly pressed against her panty-shrouded penis and a warm, delicious glow began to radiate from her prostate as Steve began to fuck her, his pre-ejaculate finally providing the lubrication needed so that he could ram his cock in and out of her tight asshole.

With her back pressed against the tree and her legs locked around his waist, Steve was able to free his hands and cup Crissy’s buttocks as he began to viciously fuck her. The whole crazy evening incited his ardour and he smashed his lips against Crissy’s mouth, drove his tongue into her and began to pummel her anal sheath with his rampant member.

Crissy screamed into his mouth, part pleasure – part pain, as Steve’s cock assaulted her tight anal chamber, her rectum dilating to accept his swollen limb, the sensitive nerves in her prostate ignited and infused her lower body with a tingling climactic resonance that joined with the aching circlets of delight that emanated from her penis as Steve’s belly rubbed against it, her satin panties creating a frisson that induced an earth-shattering orgasm.

Steve felt Crissy begin to convulse and he jackhammered his cock in and out of her tight rectum as his own orgasm erupted. They clung to each other, scratching, biting and clawing at each other as Steve pummelled her asshole and Crissy shook like a moppet as her body became afire with a cataclysmic climax. She creamed her panties, her cock juddering as she felt Steve’s cock pulsating inside her, filling her anus with his juices which overflowed and ran down her thighs.

Steve ripped his cock from Crissy’s hole and let her fall to her feet exhausted. She bent over to catch her breath, holding her skirt away from her body so that her semen and Steve’s spunk wouldn’t stain it. She snatched at her purse and found her little packet of tissues and ripped a handful out of the sachet and dabbed at her thighs and the front of her panties, the tissue soaking up the splooge.

“Now that’s very ladylike,” Steve jested as he buckled his pants and searched his pockets for his cigarettes.

“Shut up! You loved it. Now take me home, my knight in shining armour, and I might let you go again but this time not as brutal,” Crissy snatched the cigarette from Steve’s grasp and chuffed on it.

Crissy straightened her clothing and Steve put his arm around her and led her to a path which eventually came out one street over from The House On The Hill. Steve hailed a taxi and by the time they arrived at the Cairns City Motel Crissy was fast asleep. The booze had caught up with her and the promise of further sexual congress was no longer on the table. Steve undressed her as best he could and put her to bed than he stripped and climbed in beside her and was asleep in seconds.

The next day Crissy was curled up in the cab of a clunky old truck while Steve drove along the Savannah Way climbing up through the tablelands, concentrating on the tricky road. She had woke up hungover and just about managed hold down a cup of coffee before Steve loaded her and her belongings into the truck. She had brushed her teeth but hadn’t showered and still had her makeup on from last night which was now smeared and kinda sexy but Steve had no time for sex.

Crissy had changed her panties and shucked into cutoff short-shorts, a tank top and sandals. The old truck did not have a sleeper and Crissy tried to sleep in the passenger seat but Steve made a game of purposely hitting a pothole now and then just as she nodded off.

“You're doing that on purpose,” Crissy whined.

“No I’m not. You're just hungover and grumpy,” Steve chuckled.

“And my arse hurts,” Crissy said balefully.

“Well, whose fault is that? You wanted it up against the tree with no lube,” Steve replied.

“You loved it,” Crissy yawned and tried to go back to sleep.

When the truck passed over the range the road became better and Steve let her sleep.

Steve pulled over at a service station in Normanton and Crissy was able to take a shower, freshen up and change into a skirt and blouse. She still wore her sandals and much to Steve’s disappointment didn’t put on pantyhose.

“It’s too hot for nylons,” Crissy explained.

“Ok. Let’s go have a beer at The Purple Pub before we hit the road. A hair of the dog will fix you right up,” Steve said pulling up next to the quaint old building that someone for some reason had decided to paint purple years ago, and the name stuck.

The cold lager was refreshing and Crissy received quite a few appreciative glances from locals and tourists alike but she was keen to get to Karumba and finally meet up with Aunt Greta.

They pulled into the incongruously named Paradise Caravan Park and Lodgings at Karumba just before sunset and Steve dropped Crissy off while he took the truck to the depot to be unloaded.

Greta Doyle was wearing a shapeless housedress and rubber thongs. Her hair looked a little wild and her face was bare of makeup but there was no doubt that under the sack like dress there was a voluptuous figure and her legs were shapely. She was a goodlooking woman who would look stunning when she was spruced up.

Greta opened her arms and hugged Crissy who was apprehensive about meeting her auntie for the first time presenting as a girl. She had only fleeting memories of her father’s sister from when Christian was young boy.

“Well aren't you the pretty little thing,” Greta smiled at her niece who until recently had been her nephew.

“So you're Crissy now, well that’s fine by me. Billy and I got into a real kerfuffle when he told me about your antics. Your mother and I always suspected that you were different,” Greta held Crissy at arm’s length and studied her.

“Yeah, it’s Cristiana but I shorten it to Crissy. I have finally found my true self,” Crissy gave a wan smile.

“So I can stay here and you have a job for me? You asked if Steve was the jealous type Aunt Greta, what was that about?” Crissy asked.

“Of course you can stay and yes I have a job for you and the prospect of maybe earing a lot of money but let’s not talk about that now. Let me show you around and get you settled. I have a van put aside for your truckie friend,” Greta took Crissy’s hand in hers.

“And Greta will do; drop the auntie if you please,” Greta picked up Crissy’s duffel with her other hand and Crissy gathered the rest of her belongings.

Paradise Caravan Park and Lodgings were hardly paradisical. The large flat plot of sparsely grassed land was divided into sections. One area was a campsite, another area was set aside for those towing their own caravans and trailer homes, one of the largest sections was dotted with onsite caravans and another area was populated with shipping containers that had been converted into cabins. The areas were accessed by well-kept dirt roads lined with white-painted rocks. Each area had its own ablutions block, picnic area, outdoor BBQ and all of the sites were powered.

Greta led Crissy to a cul-de-sac located away from the main grounds, next to the site office. Greta lived in a large, rather luxurious Millard static caravan surrounded by a white picket fence and rock garden. Beside it were four of the converted shipping containers known locally as ‘Container Cabins’.

“You're in the one closest to me,” Greta led Crissy to one of the structures which featured a tiny patio with outdoor furniture.

Inside they were met by a blast of cold air from the wall mounted box air conditioner. It was basically a tiny one room apartment with a tinier ensuite bathroom. It was sparsely but comfortably furnished and even had a minifridge and stovetop.

“This is lovely,” Crissy dropped her shopping bags on the bed and Greta put her duffle on the table.

“So what’s this job you have for me?” Crissy sat down at the two-seater table and Greta sat across from her.

“Well… I am prepared to employ you in a housekeeper position basically performing the same functions as a housemaid in a hotel but of course here at The Park,” Crissy would soon come to realise that everyone referred to the caravan park and lodgings as ‘The Park’ or ‘Greta’s Park’.

“My clientele is a mixed bag of local workers, fishermen, itinerants and tourists. I get a lot of grey nomads travelling the country, living off the grid in their retirement,” Greta explained.

“But what has that got to do with whether or not Steve is the jealous type?” Crissy asked.

“Look freshen up and put on something decent. Make yourself look pretty but don’t go overboard, this is Karumba not Melbourne. We’ll go down to the pub for a drink and discuss it,” Greta got up from her seat.

“I’ll give you an hour or so to settle in, unpack and get ready. See you soon,” Greta let herself out.

Still without an answer to her question Crissy did as she was told. She was eternally grateful that Greta accepted her for who and what she was and for offering her a place to stay and a job. Greta picked Crissy up as arranged and they walked to the local watering hole.

Crissy and Greta sat on stools on a table outside in the beer garden. Greta was greeted by almost every person they passed when they entered the world-famous Animal Bar. It was a small town and just about everybody knew everybody else.

“This place opened in 1974 and back in those days every bit of furniture was bolted to the floor, including the ashtrays. It’s not quite as rough as it used to be but it can still get a bit boisterous. Bluey Benwell once threw a crocodile at the barmaid when she cut off his beer. It was only a baby croc though, not a big one,” Greta reached for her cigarettes.

Crissy looked around the graffiti-covered pub walls and at the rough-looking clientele, mostly prawn fishermen and labourers. There were a couple of local women in the pub but besides the barmaids the only other women were grey nomads. The scrawny, sun-bronzed, mostly bearded men, dressed in ratty shorts, tank tops and thongs eyed the women covetously.

Crissy was wearing a black short skirt and plain cotton top. The evening was cool so she had worn fleshtone pantyhose with her cork-soled platform sandals. Her makeup was not as heavy as usual but her eyes were enhanced with eyeliner and mascara and she wore matte red lipstick. Greta too wore nylons, black control top pantyhose, with a figure-hugging red dress and low heels. She too wore makeup and her true beauty and voluptuous figure were now evident.

“Can I get you a drink?” Crissy asked.

“Don’t be silly my girl. Just wait a minute,” Greta said as she lit a cigarette.

Sure enough one of the fisherman came over to their table carrying two schooners of ice-cold beer.

“There you go ladies,” he grinned at them with a gap-toothed smile.

“Thanks Wakka,” Greta smiled back at him and nodded at him to keep walking.

“Skipper of a prawn trawler. Nice bloke once you get to know him,” Greta answered the unasked question.

“Single ladies never buy their own drinks at the Animal Bar,” Greta winked at her niece.

“So many men here but they're all on the rough side,” Crissy commented.

“Fishermen, miners and labourers. This is the only hangout in town. All those men are cashed up and you know what they want? Booze and sex,” Greta answered her own question.

“Which brings me to your other question. I’ve don’t know how much you know about me but I’ve lived a somewhat colourful, knockabout sort of life. I’ve done everything from being a barmaid, a bus driver, a jillaroo and at one time I was a lady of the night,” Greta explained.

“I scraped up enough savings to buy the caravan park here and immediately saw the potential to make more money. To put it bluntly I do a bit of smuggling but I also run the only whorehouse in Karumba. Just a four girls working out of the container cabins next to reception,” Greta paused to take a drink and let her announcement settle in.

“You want be to become a prostitute?” Crissy was shocked.

“I’m not asking you to do anything. I’m making a business proposition. The last transsexual I had working for me was an island girl from Thursday Island; big girl with real tits and a big cock. She was very popular and made enough money to piss off to the Philippines to get surgery. She’s getting married and won’t be coming back,” Greta lit another cigarette.

“So you see I have vacancy for that type of girl. I have a bunch of women in Cairns who rotate through here on six week stints, two at a time, but I don’t have a trans girl now and trans girls are very popular,” Greta explained.

“What kind of women do that type of work?” Crissy asked, somewhat intrigued.

“Two of my girls are married housewives whose husbands approve of them working the trade but only up here away from home. Another one is a spinster who teaches Sunday School. All type of women work in the sex trade,” Greta took a drag on her cigarette.

“Lucy, the TI trans girl, lived here in Karumba fulltime in that container cabin you’re in now. There’s a shit-ton of money in it if you're up for it but if you would rather clean the shitters and showers in the ablutions blocks, pick up after assholes at the picnic tables and make beds in the onsite rentals you're welcome to do that. Also you would have to move out of that cabin. Those four cabins are for my working girls. Working as a pros isn’t for everyone though,” Greta looked Crissy in the eye to register her interest but Crissy’s eyes were blank because she was stunned.

Just then Wakka came back over and interrupted them.

“Are you working tonight Greta?” he asked.

“No. Rachel and Gloria are working tonight,” Greta replied but didn’t take her eyes off Crissy.

“What about this one?” Wakka nodded at Crissy.

“She’s not doing that type of work Wakka,” Greta replied.

Crissy was ruminating on what Aunt Greta had said. She had latched onto the statement ‘there’s a shit-ton of money in it if you're up for it’. Crissy had been told by her father ‘go find yourself a fucking job and support yourself. You can go and suck cocks for a living in Kings Cross for all I care’. Kurumba was as far from Kings Cross as you could possibly get but her aunty had offered her job doing exactly what Crissy’s father had disdainfully proposed.

“Not tonight. I start tomorrow and clean yourself up a bit before you come,” Crissy addressed Wakka who gave Crissy a gap-toothed grin and walked away happy.

It was Greta’s turn to be stunned.

“You really want to do this Crissy?” she reached out and took Crissy’s hand.

“We have all day tomorrow for you to show me the ropes. I want the money and over that last few days I have discovered that I really like sex so why not?” Crissy took a long pull on her schooner.

“It’s not a job you do because you like the sex not that there is anything wrong with enjoying yourself with the right customer. Look around the pub Crissy; these are the sort of men that you would be servicing,” Greta nodded at the rough looking men drinking in groups around the Animal Bar.

“You haven’t met Steve. He’s no film star, although I once told him he looks a bit like Sean Connery… The Highlander Sean, not the James Bond one,” Crissy giggled.

“Speaking of which… what are you going to tell him?” Greta finished her schooner and reached for her cigarettes.

“You said that two of the girls that work for you are married. Steve and I haven’t really decided what our relationship is or even if it is a relationship. He doesn’t really have a dog in the fight,” Crissy said gruffly but Greta could tell that Crissy was concerned.

“You told me that he gave up his job in Sydney to drive trucks on the Cairns-Karumba route so he could be with you. He will be living on the caravan park. It’s more complicated than you are saying,” another fisherman suddenly appeared with two icy-cold beers, nodded at them both and left.

Greta watched the man return to a group of men gathered at a table near the bar. Wakka was part of the group and was he was talking animatedly with the others and they kept looking over their way. Word was getting out that Greta had a pretty young tranny about to join her stable.

Crissy picked up her beer, taking her time formulating an answer.

“I tell you what. Don’t tell him anything. I’ll tell him. I want to talk to him about some other business anyway,” Greta patted Crissy’s hand.

“Speak of the devil. Here he is now. Steve’s large frame was jostling through the crowd. He was carrying a schooner of beer and two gin and tonics in his large pawlike hands.

“You must be Aunt Greta,” Steve smiled at Greta as he put the drinks down on the table.

“Just Greta, Steve. So you're the one who has corrupted my niece. Now sit here beside me and tell me all about yourself,” Greta smiled at him and patted the stool beside her.

“She corrupted me is more like it,” Steve grinned at Greta.

Crissy could sense a chemistry between her aunt and her lover already.

Steve told Greta his life story, emphasising that he was single now that Sandy had divorced him.

“These so called truckstop lot-lizards you fuck. They’re prostitutes right? How did you feel about that?” Greta asked.

Steve was a bit flummoxed by the question but he answered honestly.

“Every woman has the right to whatever she wants with her body. If they want to make money selling their bodies, who am I to take their inventories?” Steve replied.

“Good answer Steve. You're returning to Cairns again tomorrow?” Greta asked.

“Yeah. I’m taking a load back then I’ll fly down to Sydney to pack up and drive back up here. The company has found me a cheap room in Cairns but I’ll be based out of here, driving the route back and forth on alternate days so I’ll be here every second night and I get four days off a fortnight. It’s a sweet deal,” Steve grinned proudly at his own negotiation skills.

“All right, that’s probably enough booze for a school night. Walk us ladies back to The Park and come over to my van and I’ll give you the key to yours and we can talk about rent and so on,” Greta got up off her stool and Steve politely moved it out of the way for her.

“Good to see you are a gentleman,” Greta commented.

Back at The Park, Crissy made her way over to her cabin after kissing Steve goodnight. She was a little drunk and after the big night previously at The House On The Hill all she was interested in was sleep. She was glad that Greta was going to tell Steve about her new job but she was interested in how he might react. Was he the jealous type after all?

“Take a seat. I’d offer you a drink but you are driving tomorrow. I have a couple of things I’d like to discuss with you. Three things actually but they are all interrelated,” Greta patted the space beside her where she had parked herself on the couch.

Steve was impressed with Greta’s Millard classic 22-foot caravan. It was a lot bigger inside than it looked from the outside and it was sumptuously appointed. More like a small house than a caravan.

“I’ll just get it out there. I run a couple of girls out of The Park, you know what I mean by that?” Greta launched into it as soon as Steve was settled.

“I know. I told my boss that I had rented a caravan here and he told what goes on. Apparently it’s an open secret,” Steve looked down at his hands as if he knew what was coming.

“Crissy want’s to work here doing… well you know, as a lady of the night if I can put it politely. I’ll just say upfront that I didn’t coerce her in any way. I told her that I had a position open and that it pays well,” Greta explained.

“Look, Crissy and I have only just met. I’d like to think that we have some kind of relationship beyond the sex but she’s her own woman now. In a way I’d like to think that I somehow contributed to her finding out who she really is but she’s old enough to make her own decisions,” Steve sighed.

“I’m glad you feel that way about but there’s more to it. I’d like you and Crissy to be open about your relationship. This is a one-cop town with a lot of rough guys who drink a lot and fight a lot and many of them have shady backgrounds. That’s why they are up here in the top end,” Greta reached for her cigarettes.

“If it gets around that you are Crissy’s boyfriend, she’ll be a lot safer. No one is going to fuck with her knowing they will have to answer to you. Secondly, with you living on The Park, even though you will only be here every second night, except for your days off of course when you will be here fulltime, the clientele will assume that you are looking out for me and my girls by your association with my niece,” Greta lit two cigarettes and gave one to Steve.

“You want me to pimp?” Steve didn’t look happy.

“No, far from it. I don’t want you to have anything to do with that side of the business but just your presence here and association with Crissy will have a calming effect. I have other businesses along those lines I want to discuss with you,” Greta paused to gauge Steve’s reaction.

“Go on,” he took a drag on his smoke.

“I had deal with you predecessor. I acquire certain items from Indonesia that are transhipped at sea from Indonesian fishing boats onto Aussie fishing boats. The skippers bring said items to me and I pay them for their work. Your predecessor would then transport said items to Cairns and hand them over to my contact there. To paraphrase your girlfriend; ‘there’s a shit-ton of money in it if you're up for it’”, Greta studied Steve’s face.

“My boss doesn’t know about that, right? What about the cops?” Steve asked.

“Nobody knows except for a couple of skippers who I trust implicitly. As for Dave Dillon, the local Senior Constable, let’s just say I have an arrangement with him,” Greta smiled.

“What kind of arrangement?” Steve asked.

“Well his missus is a bit of a stuck up prude who hates the fact that Dave is posted here. She’s more at home in the city and she goes down to Cairns every month or so and then flies to Melbourne to be with her mother and her stuck-up friends for a week or so. I sneak around to the copper’s house on a few nights while she’s away and do all the things his wife won’t. For that he turns a blind eye to me and my girls. He knows that if I didn’t have my operation someone else would fill the niche and it might be someone unsavoury rather than a sweet middle-aged lady like me,” she patted Steve’s thigh.

“As for the smuggling. He says he has enough on his plate to worry about than to have to deal with something that is essentially a job for Customs. It helps that I slip him a little money every now and then; his missus has extravagant tastes,” Greta smiled wryly.

“So he’s the only guy in the world who gets visited by a prostitute and she pays him,” Steve chuckled.

“I’m more of a Madam now but I fill in now and then if one of my girls gets crook or it gets too busy,” Greta’s hand sneaked further along Steve’s thigh.

“And how much are you gonna pay me,” Steve would not be distracted by Gerta’s fumbling attempt at seduction.

“Well for starters you can have the caravan gratis,” Greta said and then she told him how much he would be paid for each run.

Steve whistled softly.

“Any other fringe benefits. Something similar to Senior Constable Dillon?” Steve put his hand on Greta’s thigh and smiled wickedly.

“Sure. Why not. It’s only pussy and I sell it all the time,” she put her hand over his and dragged it further up her thigh.

“I’d like a taste now. Crissy is asleep and I’m horny,” Steve was upfront about his desires.

“Sure, why not. I wouldn’t mind a quickie before I go to bed,” Greta backed onto the couch and Steve closed in on her.

He kissed her deeply, tasting her lipstick and inhaling her perfume while his hands explored her curvaceous body. He squeezed her breasts through her dress and Greta obligingly pulled down the shoulder straps of her dress exposing a well-worn white satin and lace brassiere, the cups filled with her silky white flesh, the dark areolas and pink nipples visible through the sheer fabric. Her nipples were hard.

Whilst fucking Crissy was a joy, Steve did miss having an ample bosom to play with and Greta certainly had that. Steve freed her paps from the cups her brassiere and suckled them, alternating between the fat bloated nipples. Greta unbuckled Steve’s belt and tugged at his shorts and Steve unzipped his fly and kicked them off, along with his underpants, kicked off his shoes and went back to suckling Greta’s nipples. She mussed his hair and guided his mouth from teat to teat.

Greta took one of his hands in hers and guided his hand down her body and slipped his fingers under the hem of her dress and he caressed her thighs. He adored the feel of her gossamer pantyhose, then he found the control-top which was silky and tight against her mound and slightly paunchy belly.

Greta shuddered and her tongue slid into his mouth, further igniting Steve’s passion and he sought her cleft and he could feel the mound of her pubis through her pantyhose and the panties she wore underneath. Greta’s labial slit was already a little damp. He pressed a finger into her cleft and parted her vulva and Greta gasped as Steve’s fingertips pressed the slinky nylon and satin against her clitoris. Steve wished that Greta wore her panties over her pantyhose like Crissy did so he could pull them down whilst leaving on her pantyhose but it was nice to be playing with a cunt again.

Greta reached for Steve’s rod and found it steely-hard, the velvety skin of the shaft lined with pulsing veins, the mushroomed glans soft and yielding and dribbling pre-ejaculate. She scooped up the precious dewy droplets and massaged them into his quivering phallus. Steve kissed her passionately and rubbed at her slit a little harder, the sweet tang of vaginal juices rising from her crotch.

Greta reclined on the couch pulling Steve down with her. His big cock pressed into her belly whilst his fingers slid inside the waistband of her pantyhose and panties and he parted her labia and slid two fingers inside her warm, buttery cunt and pressed his thumb on her clitoris. Greta groaned and pulled his face to hers and kissed him deeply.

"Put it in me Steve, let’s not take all night about this," she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her undergarments, endeavouring to pull them down.

“Leave them on. Crissy knows I love to fuck her while she’s wearing pantyhose and now so do you,” Steve smiled down wantonly at Greta.

“But how are you going to…” Greta was going to ask how Steve intended to fuck her but Steve answered her question by pushing a fingernail into the gusset of her control-top pantyhose and made a little hole.

“Oh, now I see. The punters quite often ask me and my girls to wear stockings but this is the first time I’ve been fucked in pantyhose,” Greta giggled a little.

She guided Steve's cock through the little hole in her pantyhose and inside the gusset of her panties and nestled it in her dewy labia. Steve pushed Greta down into the couch and drove his engorged phallus into her steamy quim. Greta locked her legs around him and scissored them, knowing that the feel of her pantyhose on his flesh would drive him wild. She put her hands inside his shirt and raked his muscled shoulders.

Steve fucked Greta with long slow strokes, feeling her cunt cling to his manhood as he withdrew it and then drove it back inside her all the way, grinding his pubis into hers so that her clitoris was stimulated. Greta was a voluptuous woman and Steve enjoyed riding her, her body was so different to Crissy’s. Greta had big juicy breasts, an ample belly, buxom buttocks and was very curvy and she kissed like a succubus trying to extract his essences. Her cunt was juicy and a little sloppy but it was warm and inviting and her labia clung to the shaft of his penis as drove it in and out of her musty hole. He made sure that his pelvis pressed against her clitoris as he fucked her.

Suddenly Greta howled into his mouth and wrapped her arms and legs around him and pulled him close as she shuddered and mewled and moaned as her climax peaked. Steve drove his cock all the way inside her and released his issue deep in her vagina as it spasmed around his swollen member.

They clung to each other in the afterglow of their orgasm until Greta became impatient.

“Ok, get off me you big lunk,” she playfully pressed against him and Steve’s deflating cock slid out of her sloppy maw.

Her panties and pantyhose caught the small river of jism that dribbled from her cunt.

“Do I tell Crissy about this?” Steve asked.

Greta considered her answer before replying.

To be continued…

Passenger Seat Princess - Chapter 3

Author:

Michele Nylons

Caution:

CAUTION: Sex / Sexual Scenes

Audience Rating:

EXPLICIT CONTENT

Publication:

Final Chapter

Genre:

Crossdressing

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Chapter Three – Bali Hai

Karumba, Queensland, Australia – 1986

Steve was in a quandary having just fucked Crissy’s Aunt Greta. Crissy and Steve had not discussed what their relationship actually was but there was no doubt that they were more than just fuckbuddies. Also, Crissy had just agreed to prostitute herself so it wasn’t like she was going to be monogamous, so why should Steve feel guilty?

“Do I tell Crissy about this?” Steve asked.

Greta was sitting up, fussing with her brassiere, putting her big tits back into the cups then she smoothed out her dress.

“Look… whatever you and Crissy have going is up to you. She’s going to be fucking strange men on a regular basis so if you take a little pleasure elsewhere what has she got to be jealous about?” Greta stood up and went to the front section of her caravan and opened a locked compartment in the floor.

She handed Steve a package about the size of a house brick wrapped tightly in brown paper and covered with a layer of plastic wrap and then she handed him a wad of cash bundled together with a rubber band.

“You know where the hidey-hole is in the cab of the truck right?” Greta asked and Steve nodded.

Steve did know where the hidey-hole was in the cab of the old truck. Most truckers used amphetamines to keep alert and many also kept other illicit material in their hidey-holes. When he’d picked up the truck in Cairns his mate had showed him and Steve was impressed at how innocuous the hiding place was.

“When you get to Cairns take this package to the Frontier Hotel around seven and a guy named Brendon will approach you. He’s a big guy, long hair, beard, tattoos, he’ll identify himself, and ask if you have something for him from ‘Sally’,” Greta winked at Steve.

“And Brendon isn’t his real name either,” Steve returned the wink.

“The fisho doesn’t know what I do with do with the items he brings ashore for me. ‘Brendon’ doesn’t know where or how I get those packages or even who I am. Senior Constable Dave Dillon knows fuck all, nor does he want to. He just gets to fuck me for free while his missus is away. That’s how this works. Don’t tell Brendon your real name or who you work for; just refer to me as Sally if he asks. You're an intelligent guy Steve, otherwise I wouldn’t have asked you to work for me,” Greta nodded at the cash in Steve’s hand.

“So both Crissy and I work for you now?” Steve smiled knowingly.

“And is that a bad thing?” Greta leaned in and kissed him and squeezed his cock through his shorts.

“I’ll see you and Crissy when I get back from Sydney,” Steve snatched up the key to his caravan off the table where he had put it during their tryst.

He stopped and turned to face Greta.

“How often do I make these runs?” he asked.

Greta just smiled sweetly and shrugged her shoulders.

The next morning Crissy woke up and was pleased to find that she was lying in what was now her own bed. She recalled the events of the last week or so and was amazed how far she had come both figuratively and tangibly. She decided that she had made the right decision to come out as transgender and considered what the next steps would be as part of her transformation. She definitely wanted to get breasts. Not the giant oversize tits she had seen on some porn queens but size-appropriate cleavage.

She also reconsidered her spur of the moment decision to prostitute herself. In the cold light of day it seemed daunting but Aunt Greta was here to help her and the money would go a long way to help pay for her transition.

There was a tap at the door and Greta entered carrying two steaming cups of coffee.

“Get up sleepyhead we have things to discuss and things to do,” Greta settled her ample bottom into one of the two chairs set around the little dining table.

Crissy got up and went into the bathroom and took a piss and joined her aunt. Greta was dressed in another of her comfortable loose-fitting dresses. Crissy was still in the babydoll pyjamas she had purchased in Cairns.

“How many outfits like that do you have?” Greta nodded at Crissy’s pyjamas.

“A couple,” she replied.

“Anything else that is sexy but not expensive. Not dresses or skirts, you know… sleepwear, slinky stuff,” Greta asked.

“A couple of nylon and satin full-slips. Plenty of sexy panties, a couple of sussies and lots of pantyhose and stockings,” Crissy could guess where this going.

“When your boyfriend gets back from Sydney and starts his regular runs to Cairns, give him a shopping list of peignoirs, full slips, more panties, satin and nylon of course, and a couple of pairs of cheap fuck-me heels. Also get more makeup. These rough and tumble guys like their women dressed femme and sexy. Also get a shit-ton of hold-up stockings, they love stockings,” Greta paused to sip her coffee.

“Get him to buy you more lube and toiletries and some cheap perfume. These are all tools of the trade. Now let me get into specifics…” Greta went on to explain to Crissy how she ran her small stable of prostitutes.

The gist of it was that the girls charged a non-negotiable fee by the half-hour regardless of the services provided. The girls always had the final say: if they didn’t like the punter they didn’t have to service him, if the punter wanted something that girl was unwilling to provide, said service was declined and the girl could charge extra for anything beyond oral or vaginal sex. Fifty percent of what the girls made went to Greta, the girl kept the rest and any gratuities. A drink or two on the job was okay but no drugs were allowed on the premises. Greta ran an appointment book but she often got walk-ins and the girls were kept busy.

“See that red lamp in the window. You switch it on when you’re available. You turn it off while you are servicing a punter and then switch it back on again to signal your availability. I expect my girls to start at 6pm sharp and work at least until midnight and on weekends you start at noon and finish when you finish,” Greta explained.

“Between you girls, you can arrange one day off a week but I need at least three of you working. If for some reason two of you want the same day off and if I’m up for it, I’ll pick up the slack. Because you will be living here fulltime you will work three weeks on and have a week off. That was the arrangement I had with Lucy. The others are FIFO so I expect them to put in the hours while they are here,” Greta finished her blurb.

“Anything else?” Crissy asked.

“Yes, you should know that Steve is working for me as a bouncer when he’s in town and also in another capacity. You should also know that he won’t be jealous of you fucking other men. At least he shouldn’t be because he fucked me last night,” Greta looked Crissy in the eye to gauge her reaction.

“You know what… that’s actually a relief. While I really like Steve I don’t want him getting too hung up on me,” Crissy said pragmatically.

“One final thing. See that big red button behind the bedhead. That’s your panic button. If you feel threatened in any way or a punter is giving you any kind of grief, press that button and I’ll come running or Steve will, or whoever I have running security on the night. Don’t take any shit from the punters but don’t press the button willy-nilly, you know what happened to the girl who cried wolf,” Greta finished her coffee.

“Wasn’t that the ‘boy’?” Crissy asked and Greta just gave her wry smile.

“Down to business. You have already committed to seeing Wakka so he’ll be your first client. Never call them punters to their face by the way, they are clients. Remember, this is Far North Queensland. You aren’t going to find many Prince Charmings up here, mostly grisly older men, either too skinny or too fat who are tough as old boots. Word has got around that I have a pretty young tranny working for me and you have a full book tonight so rest up today and make sure you are ready to go at six,” Greta got up from the table.

“Get dressed and come over to my van and I’ll take you for a drive around town. There’s a small supermarket in town but they charge like a wounded bull so anything you want that isn’t a necessity get Steve to pick up in Cairns. I’ll be giving him a shopping list every now and then too,” Greta left the cabin and Crissy took a deep breath and headed to the bathroom.

At exactly six that evening there was a polite tap on the door. Crissy was dressed in her babydoll pyjamas, translucent nylon full-cut panties, sheer fleshtone holdup stockings and high heels. She had teased out her hair, her makeup was heavy, her nails were painted and she was doused in perfume. As per Greta’s instructions she had made herself look as slutty as possible. A tube KY-Jelly sat on the nightstand in arm’s reach from the bed with a pack of moisturised wipes beside it.

Crissy took a deep breath and opened the door.

She couldn’t help smiling when she saw Wakka. He had taken her instructions to clean himself up a bit before he came to see her to the extreme. He was wearing clean work shorts and a nearly new singlet, his hair was slicked down, still wet from the shower, and she could smell the overpowering scent of Old Spice aftershave as soon as she opened the door. He had even brushed the few remaining teeth he had left because she smelled mouthwash on his breath when he opened his mouth to talk. He was holding a sixpack of Fourex.

“Hello Crissy,” he said rather bashfully.

He was a far cry from the smelly rough and tumble fishing boat skipper she had seen in the pub the night before but he was still very gnarly.

He kicked off his rubber thongs as he stepped inside and Crissy closed the door and remembered to turn off the red light. Wakka stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, holding onto his sixpack of beer, like he had never done this before even though Greta had told Crissy that Wakka was one of Lucy’s regular customers. The room was dimly lit by a single bed lamp and anything of value had been locked away. The room was scrupulously clean and the bedlinen fresh and a cheap absorbent short-time sheet laid on top as per Greta’s advice.

Crissy had drunk two gin and tonics while she was getting dressed, just to take the edge off and she felt quietly confident that she would be able to do what she had to do but her heart was thumping in her chest.

Wakka went over to the little table, put down the beers and laid out the required stipend for a one hour visit and once again seemed at a loss as to how to proceed.

“Greta tells me that you used to see Lucy, I hope I can provide you with the same satisfaction,” Crissy felt stupid as soon as she said the words but Wakka seemed relieved.

Feeling a little silly about what she had said she put the beers in her minifridge to distract herself.

“Well, you are a lot prettier and younger than Lucy and Lucy was a big girl and you are tiny and I’ve been dreaming of this all day,” Wakka breathed.

“I want an hour with you and I’d like a bit of oral before we… before we have sex. I’m not a poofter or anything so I don’t want you to root me or nuthin’ like that,” Wakka gave her his gap-toothed grin but he was blushing.

Greta had told Crissy that Lucy used to ‘top’ as well as ‘bottom’ and explained to her what those terms meant and Crissy said that she would definitely not be topping anyone and Greta replied that she would make that abundantly clear to potential clients.

Crissy almost felt sorry for Wakka because he was so nervous. The uncouth lout she had seen in the Animal Bar seemed more like a reticent schoolboy. She walked over to Wakka and smiled at him and leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

“Shall we go over to the bed?” she whispered in a sultry tone.

Wakka followed Crissy towards the bed all the time staring at her legs, sheathed in those gorgeous sheer stockings and he also checked out her bottom. It wasn't as plump and rounded as Lucy's but it was still magnificent and the sheer pink skirt of her babydoll pyjamas clung to her buttocks nicely.

Crissy sat on the edge of the bed and patted the space beside her and Wakka sat down next to her but not too close.

Wakka was nervous and that was unlike him. He was usually confident and controlling but the diminutive little girl sitting beside him seemed so fragile. He found her beguiling and so different to Lucy. Wakka noticed that her long fingernails were painted the same red as her lipstick.

Wakka took Crissy’s hand in his and gazed into her sparkling blue eyes.

"You are beautiful. I really haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I saw you yesterday,” Wakka sighed

Crissy decided that she had better get things moving along and she leaned in and kissed him.

Wakka rested his hand on her knee and ran his fingers along her leg and returned the kiss. Crissy was uncomfortable with Wakka's mouth because of the missing teeth but he was a good kisser and he used his tongue expertly whilst his hand softly stroked her legs, his fingers tracing a line along her stockings, pausing when they came to the lacy band at the top. He fiddled with the welt for a while, kissing her, his breathing becoming laboured.

Then Wakka slid his hand under the loose chemise and continued on to her slinky nylon panties. Crissy smiled because Wakka's inhibitions had dissipated and it actually felt good being kissed and fondled by the old seadog. Her cock was uncomfortably hard, pressed along her perineum and she wriggled a little and let is spring free, all the time kissing Wakka passionately.

Wakka touched Crissy’s penis through the gauzy material of her panties and cautiously felt the outline of the appendage. Crissy could sense his hesitancy and she understood why. She was a lot younger and more delicate than the Rubenesque, buxom-breasted island girl she had replaced. There was an awkward moment while they broke apart and Wakka stripped down to his jockey shorts.

Wakka became more confident and he pulled Crissy into his embrace and they rolled around on the bed, kissing, fondling and canoodling. Wakka's tongue invaded her mouth and his hands were everywhere: stroking her legs, squeezing her buttocks and sometimes stroking her cock through her panties. Crissy responded accordingly and she stroked Wakka's cock, feeling the precum leaking from the eye in a continual dribble. She used the viscous fluid to lubricate his shaft and slowly stroked him as he gasped into her mouth.

He moved her hand out of the way and rubbed his cock on her stockings and rings of intense pleasure radiated from his cock. Their kisses were becoming frenetic and Wakka guided his cock to Crissy's panties and he rubbed it there, pressing it against Crissy's cock. Her panties soon became soaked in precum and Crissy decided it was time to move things along.

She broke out of Wakka’s embrace and pushed him down on the bed so that his head rested on the pillows and pulled off his jocks. Crissy looked down at Wakka and smiled seductively and he looked up at the beautiful young woman on her knees holding his cock inches away from her ruby-red lips and his heart skipped a beat. Crissy licked her lips seductively and gazed at Wakka's cock, the shaft was girded by blue veins, the skin translucent, the head bulbous and pink, a clear droplet of pre-ejaculate formed at the eye.

Crissy tentatively extended her tongue and licked the bubble of precum off the tip of Wakka's penis. It tasted clean and salty and then Crissy put Wakka's cock in her mouth and closed her mouth on the shaft and worked her tongue on the flange of Wakka's cock and lapped at his fraenulum she felt his cock judder in her mouth and heard him groan. His hands went to her head and he entwined his fingers in her hair but he wasn't rough. He gently guided her mouth up and down on his cock and Crissy enjoyed him doing so. She liked it when Steve did this but she was surprised that this grizzled old fisherman caused her have the same response.

Wakka lay back and watched Crissy’s head bobbing up and down on his hard cock and he began to mewl and moan while Crissy used her soft lips to suckle his shaft and her wet silky tongue to slather his glans. He was going to come soon but that was ok. He wanted to fuck her after the refractory period.

Crissy felt Wakka's cock begin to throb and pulse in her mouth and she sensed that he was about to ejaculate so she sucked it harder and faster and lashed his glans with her tongue. Wakka stopped Crissy from bobbing her head up and down and held her head still and fucked her face as he unloaded stream after stream of hot, viscous semen into her pretty mouth and Crissy savoured the salty, musky issue before she swallowed it.

Crissy got off the bed and snatched the money off the table as she made her way to the bathroom. She put the money in the vanity for now, brushed her teeth, fixed her makeup and brushed her hair.

When she returned to the main room Wakka was sitting at the table dressed only in his jocks, sucking on a can of Fourex. He’d opened one for her and she sat down and sipped on it, a little nervous now that the sex was over with. Wakka however, seemed to have regained his confidence.

“That was pretty fucking awesome Crissy,” Wakka grinned at her.

His body was tanned almost black, his tattoos barely visible on his leathery skin. He was skinny with knotted muscles, his skin heavily scarred in places from wounds he’d received working at sea on a fishing trawler.

“Don’t worry, I never go overtime. I’ll be ready to go again as soon as I’ve finished this can and I really want to root you,” Wakka grinned at her as if this was some worldclass accomplishment.

Crissy smiled back at him. He was no adonis with his shaggy hair, missing teeth, broken nose and scruffy, wispy beard but he was goodhearted. Wakka drained his can, stood up and burped. True to his word, his penis was tenting his jocks.

Crissy led him back over to the bed where they kissed, caressed and canoodled. This time Wakka was more forceful and he smashed his mouth against hers and drove his tongue into her mouth. One hand went to her buttocks and squeezed them painfully while his other hand held her close. Crissy squirmed a little, indicating her discomfort and Wakka’s kisses became less fervent and more tender.

He relaxed his grip a little so that he was no longer crushing her but he held her tight and began to stroke and caress her buttocks rather than squeezing them. Wakka inhaled her perfume while he kissed her, his lips soft on hers, his tongue gently probing, his cock pressing against her and relished Crissy’s delicate femininity.

She pressed her soft body against his scrawny, muscled frame and felt the bulge of his cock on her belly. She wrapped her arms around him and Wakka rolled Crissy onto her back and mounted her. She wrapped her legs around Wakka's waist and pulled him in.

The feel of Crissy's gossamer silken hose on his flesh felt wonderful as she scissored her legs against his flesh. He put his hand inside the top of her garment and kissed Crissy’s shoulder and she gasped at the feel of his raspy face on her tender flesh. His lips and tongue followed the hollow of her neck and his other hand found her thighs and stroked her diaphanous-sheathed legs.

He pulled down the lacy top of her chemise and Crissy gasped as Wakka suckled her nipples, using his lips and his tongue to nurse her swollen teats whilst nipping at them gently with his lips. Crissy moaned and when Wakka began to stroke her legs and snake his hands under her chemise she shuddered with lust.

Crissy entwined her fingers in Wakka’s wispy chest hair; she kissed the top of his head as he tended to her meagre breasts. He expertly suckled her nipples whilst his hands moved further and further along her nyloned-thighs until they reached her panties where the fingers of one hand circled her satiny pubis. Pleasure radiated though her body and Crissy threw back her head and moaned.

She snaked her hand down his body and slipped a hand inside his briefs and extracted his thick meaty cock and bulging scrotum. Wakka growled as Crissy began to stoke him. His shank was long and sleek and she slowly worked her fingers along the veiny, steel-like shaft. Wakka kissed Crissy passionately, his tongue insistent. His fingers found her penis and squeezed it gently though her panties and Crissy shuddered with desire. Greta had warned Crissy not to orgasm with her first couple of customers because she had long night ahead of her. Unlike the other girls Crissy could not fake her orgasm but she relished being fondled, caressed and kissed by this rough diamond of a man.

She stroked Wakka's hard rod, using the dribbles of precum to lubricate it while Wakka caressed her engorged penis through her panties, feeling the slinky fabric become damper as she leaked pre-ejaculate. Crissy's cock radiated pleasure and her mouth was on fire from Wakka's kisses. She hooked her ankles around his legs trying to pulling him closer so that he would consummate their union before he invoked an unwanted orgasm from her.

Wakka desperately wanted to fuck this pretty young girl and he kicked off his underpants and reached out for the tube of K-Y Jelly on the nightstand. He squeezed the tube and generously slathered the viscous salve on his member. He pulled the crotch of her panties aside exposing her puckered bud and pressed the glans of his cock into the wrinkled aperture and began to push his rampant cock into Crissy’s anus.

Crissy concentrated on relaxing her anal muscles as Wakka kissed her and he pushed a little harder, sliding the last of his engorged manhood into Crissy's distended anus. Crissy felt his pubis slam into hers and his scrotum slap against her buttocks as his cock lay nestled deep inside her.

She put her arms around his neck and wrapped legs around his waist and hung onto Wakka, returning his kisses as he slowly began to fuck her. Wakka gripped her hips and drove his cock slowly in and out of her stretched anus. The feel of her tight tunnel clasping his bloated penis was unbelievable. He luxuriated in the feel of her tiny silken-shrouded body as she clung to him with her arms and legs, her nylon-sheathed legs caressing his flanks, her heels scratching his back..

Wakka's bloated cock was distending her sphincter and her anus, his glans pressing on her prostate, his lips crushing hers, his tongue slithering in her mouth as he began to fuck her harder. It hurt a little but not enough for her to stop him.

Wakka felt his climax approaching and he slipped his hands under Crissy’s buttocks and lifted her bottom off the coverlet and began to jackhammer his cock in out of her tight hole and she clung to him. Crissy felt Wakka’s cock suddenly begin to pulsate as he filled her back passage with his load. His scalding semen filled her and dribbled from her tight ring, running down the crack between her buttocks and her inner thighs.

She clung to Wakka and kissed him while he ravished her, he was no longer the meek and bashful man who had entered her cabin. He was a strong, eager fisherman who was using Crissy’s body to extract every ounce of pleasure he could from her. Crissy played her role and when Wakka rammed his cock all the in her as far as it would go, expelling the last of his issue, she moaned like the whore she had become. He stifled her moans with a passionate kiss and she scratched his flesh with her nails and drummed her heels on his back as his climax peaked and subsided.

When Wakka began to come down from his climactic high he reverted to his gentle self and they clung to each other like lovers and kissed in post-coital bliss until finally Wakka's penis plopped from her anus releasing a flood of semen. Crissy was glad that Greta had provided her with a stack of short-time sheets to protect her coverlet.

Wakka climbed off Crissy and looked at his watch.

“I’ve still got ten minutes, can I have a tinnie and a smoke before I leave?” he asked as he reached for his underpants, work shorts and singlet.

“Sure. Pop me can and light me a smoke and I’ll be right out,” Crissy headed to the bathroom where she wiped away the excess semen that had puddled in her panties.

She didn’t bother with her hair or makeup, douching or changing her clothes. She had half an hour between each punter to do that. Instead she came out and joined Wakka for a smoke and a drink.

“That was even more awesome Crissy. You definitely have a repeat customer in me,” Wakka patted her hand chastely.

Crissy listened to Wakka tell her about his last fishing trip and he told her that he was sailing again tomorrow but would be back in a week and would require her services. All the time Crissy was looking at the clock on the wall. Time was money and Greta warned her against going overtime with clients. But she had nothing to worry about. Right on time Wakka stood up, collected his cigarettes and the last two tinnies from her fridge and kissed her goodbye.

Crissy went into the bathroom and recovered the cash and put it in the lockbox under her bed then she cleaned herself, fixed her hair and makeup and put on clean panties and stockings. The babydoll pyjamas were not badly stained and would do for her next customer and no sooner did she turn on the red lamp than there was a knock at the door.

One Year Later…

Crissy was a lot more comfortable in her skin now that she had been living as a woman for just over a year. Although she was able to legally change her name from Chistian to Cristina there was no legal avenue for her to change her gender but that had not been an issue. Queensland had recently introduced laminated driver’s licences and when Crissy sat for her photograph she presented femme even though the card listed her sex as ‘M’ but she didn’t overdo the makeup and there was no problem. When she obtained a passport she used a similar picture but of course she had no choice but to profess her gender as male.

Crissy no longer identified as male except for legal reasons but that was fine with her except that now that she was about to travel overseas she would have to present as male to pass through customs and immigration in Australia and Indonesia but that was only a slight embuggerance. She would wear her androgynous look but of course eschew the makeup and heels until she arrived in Bali where she would change into feminine attire and put on her makeup as soon as she arrived at the hotel.

She was travelling to Bali with Greta, ostensively on a holiday but Greta had business to attend to with her contact in the smuggling game. Crissy would also be attending an accredited clinic to have her breasts augmented. The procedure would cost her a fraction of the cost than it would in Australia but would require her to stay in Bali for a week after the surgery but that was ok by her. A week lazing around the pool drinking cocktails, even though she wouldn’t be able to swim, was a luxury after literally working her arse off for most of the year.

She was lying on her side in her bed and Steve Kessler was slowly sliding his cock in and out of her tight rectum whilst stroking her cock. It felt nice fucking like this. Steve hugging her tightly, nuzzling her neck, his big phallus filling her, lighting up the sensitive nerves circling her anus, her rectum tingling and her prostate emitting a continual pleasurable resonance. Steve had asked her to wear pantyhose as usual and her cock was sheathed in the diaphanous nylon mantle, Steve’s fingers circling her hard appendage.

Most of her clients preferred that she wear stockings but Steve still had this obsession with pantyhose which Crissy was more than happy to fulfill. She felt Steve’s cock begin to palpitate and sensed that he was ready to climax, he had been edging Crissy for over half an hour now and she was more that ready to orgasm.

Steve rolled Crissy on her back and jammed a pillow under the small of her back so that her buttocks were raised invitingly and she obligingly wrapped her legs around him as he plunged his distended penis inside her and began to pummel her tight, slick chamber. He kissed her and moaned into her mouth and she felt his cock pulsate as his climax approached. She returned his kisses and scissored her legs against his flanks, knowing that he adored the sensation of her silken-hosed limbs on his flesh. She kegelled and undulated her anal sheath, a trick she had learned on the job, and milked Steve of his warm creamy issue. She felt him deposit his seed deep in her rectum.

The phenomenon of Steve’s cock ejaculating inside her as it plunged in and out of her, his glans pressing on her prostate, the girth of it stimulating her sphincter, her pantyhose-swathed cock rubbing against Steve’s belly invoked her own orgasm and she kissed him fervently as she jettisoned her issue into her pantyhose. It burst through the diaphanous nylon and smeared Steve’s stomach.

Steve lay on top of her, supporting his not insignificant weight on his elbows as they basked in the afterglow of their lovemaking, neither of them in a hurry to break the embrace and leave the comfort of Crissy’s bed. This was their farewell fuck. Steve was driving Crissy and Greta to Cairns the next day so they could board their direct flight to Bali.

“When I come back, I’ll have tits,” Crissy smiled up at Steve.

“Oh, I will enjoy them for sure but as far as I am concerned you are perfect just as you are,” Steve kissed the tip of her nose affectionately.

Their relationship was as complicated as ever. There was no doubt that they had a deep affection for each other; a bond that was more than friendship but not quite love. Around Karumba, Crissy was known to be Steve’s girlfriend and they socialised together, made love often and shared each other’s hopes and dreams but that didn’t stop Crissy prostituting herself and occasionally allowing herself an orgasm with a client if he was nice and his technique was effective in eliciting the required response. Steve was fucking Greta occasionally and Crissy knew about it and didn’t mind. She had no idea what he got up to when he was in Cairns when he stayed overnight after delivering Greta’s ‘special cargo’ but she doubted that he was celibate.

They were far from exclusive but they cherished their time together.

Crissy didn’t know too much about Aunt Greta’s smuggling racket but she knew that, as promised, Steve was making a lot of money from it. As he so eloquently put it: ‘a shit-ton’. He had bought out his friend’s haulage business and acquired a nearly-new Kenworth prime mover, a refrigerated trailer and a flat-bed trailer and monopolised the Cairns-Karumba road transport route, hauling everything from fresh seafood off the trawlers, to heavy machinery, supermarket products and general cargo. And of course he smuggled whatever it was he was trafficking for Greta, which was how he had made his fortune. Steve had another driver working for him now and only drove the route when he was transporting Greta’s ‘special cargo’.

Having a transport baron as a boyfriend also had advantages for Crissy. She was able to acquire the requisites she needed directly from Cairns and every now and then she accompanied Steve on his run so that she could shop and get a well-earned break from the tiny fishing and mining community.

The next day they left for Cairns in Steve’s brand-new Ford Courier XL dual cab Ute. It had a 3.8 litre V6 supercharged engine and was Steve’s pride and it ate up the miles. Crissy dozed in the back for most of the trip while Greta sat up front with Steve so they could talk business.

Passing through immigration and customs in Cairns and at Ngurah Rai International Airport in Bali had been easy. The Garuda flight had been full of young surfers and tourists and Crissy fitted right in. Greta had splurged on Business Class seats and the four and half flight had been comfortable and Crissy was excited.

Outside the bustling airport Greta ignored the taxi touts and headed towards a private hire car where the driver was holding up a placard with her name on it. The driver loaded their baggage and hit the busy streets, skirting Denpasar and Kuta, where most of the tourists were headed and which were the hotbeds of nightlife, sex, booze and drugs and delivered them to the Hotel Bali Beach at Sanur. They had separate but adjoining rooms and as soon as Crissy was settled in her room she showered, put on her makeup and changed into a short skirt, sleeveless top and sandals. It felt right to be presenting femme again she thought to herself as she doused herself with perfume before she snatched up her bag and went to find Greta in the bar.

“You have most of the day to yourself tomorrow while I’m conducting business. Bali is easy to get around, taxis are cheap and if you use a Bluebird you only pay what’s on the meter, no haggling, or if you want, try a local bemo,” Greta said while the bartender mixed their cocktails.

“If you want to go to Kuta that’s fine but be careful Crissy. Don’t take any free lottery tickets from the touts, they’re just selling timeshares. Watch where you’re going, the streets are full of potholes and don’t get too drunk. That’s about the only advice I have for you except for this…” Greta took a deep breath.

“Do not buy or take any illegal substances. There’s going to be dealers and other Aussies telling you that ganga is cool in Bali and that everybody is doing it but I’m here on business and the last thing I need is to be trying to bail you out of Kerobokan Prison. If you end up there you’re fucked… literally. The Bali police are tough on drugs and love to lock up foreigners involved in drugs and you won’t last a day in there before you get gang-raped. Got it?” Greta gripped Crissy’s wrist.

This was the third time Greta had warned Crissy about staying away from drugs.

“I get it Greta! Just say no. You know I’m not that kinda girl anyway. Give me an ice-cold Bintang or a fucking frozen margarita any day,” Crissy leaned in and kissed Greta on the cheek.

Crissy had no idea what Greta was smuggling into Karumba nor did she want to. Even Steve wouldn’t discuss it and that was fine with her. She knew that Greta was here to meet with some sort of connection and Crissy knew that a drug bust would put her in the spotlight.

“I’m here to enjoy myself, get my tits done and maybe fuck a guy or two before I go in for surgery,” Crissy smiled at Greta and took a hit of her margarita and ordered Mai Tais for the next round.

They had dinner in the hotel, watched the Balinese dancers perform, had a few more drinks and went to bed. The next morning they had breakfast together and parted ways, Greta telling Crissy to enjoy herself but not too much. Tomorrow she would be having her surgery.

Crissy met her contact in a quiet bar at the southern end of Sanur beach. Most of the tourists were up the other end of the beach and they pretty much had the place to themselves.

“I want to double our shipments. Our supplier has an abundance of product and is willing to negotiate whilst the price for our product is climbing exponentially in your country,” even though they were nearly positive that they were not being watched, Fajar never actually stated what the ‘product’ actually was.

“This essentially means that we will more than double our profits,” Fajar sipped his Bintang.

“What about the risks?” Greta replied.

“The riskiest part of our business is the transfer of product at sea as you know. Your authorities divide our adjoining exclusive economic zones into lettered sectors. The so-called Tango Dip drops down into the Gulf of Carpentaria where our fishing fleet based out of Kupang congregates,” Fajar began to explain.

“Your navy patrol boats cannot cross the line into our EEZ and anyway they only have powers to enforce fishing laws on foreign fishing vessels inside the Australia EEZ and your Customs and Federal Police do not have their own vessels. Your Australian trawler comes north of the line and we transfer the product in a matter of minutes, then he heads south again,” Fajar paused to take a drink.

“Your stupid laws do not allow your navy to board Australian vessels. Your fisherman keeps fishing until he meets his quota so as not to draw suspicion and then he heads back to Karumba and hands the product over to you. It’s a lot of money for very little risk,” Fajar waved at the waitress to bring more beer.

Greta knew that Steve Kessler wouldn’t have a problem delivering the shipment to Cairns. It was easy to conceal and handing it over to ‘Brendon’ at The Frontier Hotel was easy. Greta didn’t know Brendon’s real name nor did she want to. She knew that he was a member of an outlaw motorcycle gang and that most likely the product made its way to Sydney and points beyond to be cut and sold but she was far removed from that side of the business. In essence she was just a middleman or middle-woman, if there was such a thing.

She and Fajar discussed the logistics a little longer and she agreed to the deal. Fajar told her that he would inform those who needed to know. Nothing had really changed for Greta except that she would make a lot more money as would Wakka and Steve.

Neither Steve nor Crissy knew that Wakka was her business partner. A middle aged, uneducated, skinny, toothless fishing boat captain who drank too much when he was ashore was hardly the type of man people would expect to be smuggling illicit substances across international borders. He’d told Greta that once he’d socked away enough money to set himself up nicely he was getting out of the fishing business but he was the type who loved the rough and tumble lifestyle and being a ‘pirate’ tickled his fancy. He wasn’t going anywhere soon.

Meanwhile Crissy had taken a Bluebird taxi into Kuta and had quickly found a bar where people her age congregated. A single young white woman sitting alone in the Pickled Parrot was highly unlikely to be left alone for long and Crissy had to shoo away a string of potential suiters, mostly backpackers from Australia, Europe and America. She was looking for something a little more spicy and it soon arrived in the form of a tall, lithesome woman who Crissy estimated to be in her late twenties or early thirties but it was hard to tell the age of Balinese women, this one especially because she wearing perfectly applied makeup.

Without invitation the woman sat down and almost immediately a waitress appeared and the women spoke to her in Bahasa and the waitress disappeared.

“I hope you don’t mind but I ordered us Arak Bali. It’s a potent traditional spirit made from fermented coconut palm,” the woman smiled and her face lit up.

Her face was beautiful with dark almond-shaped eyes enhanced by bold colourful eyeshadow, heavy black kohl and mascara. Her high cheekbones were contoured, her lips bright red. The visage framed by perfectly straight, lustrous black shoulder-length hair. She was wearing a red low-cut mini-dress, her long legs sheathed in shimmery hosiery and her feet shod in red high-heels sometimes referred to as ‘fuck-me-heels’. Her jewellery was big and clunky and she was shrouded in exotic perfume.

“Your first time in Bali?” the woman’s voice was syrupy, her accent almost lyrical.

“Yes,” Crissy replied, fascinated by the gorgeous Balinese woman who seemed to have blended her cultural makeup and adornments with western clothing seamlessly.

“I’m Putri, which means princess in Balinese, a name I chose for myself,” Putri extended her hand across the table.

Her fingers were long and elegant, her long nails were manicured and painted red to match her lipstick and Crissy took it and squeezed it gently.

“I’m Cristina but everyone calls me Crissy,” Crissy replied.

“Those idiot boys don’t know that you are Waria but I could tell,” Putri opened a her red bejewelled clutch and extracted a pack of Gudang Garam.

“Waria?” Crissy took the preferred cigarette.

“Waria carries a unique cultural significance in Indonesia. The Bule often refer to us as ladyboys but I dislike the term,” Putri leaned over and lit Crissy’s cigarette and she was taken aback by the crackling sound of burning cloves and rich, spicy aroma and smooth taste of the pungent tobacco.

“Bule?” Crissy asked.

“Farang. White men, usually tourists but we also use the term to describe the expats who live here. They don’t like it, but fuck them, expats own a lot of commercial property, especially the bars,” their drinks arrived and Crissy took a sip.

The Arak had been diluted with Coke but it was still very strong but sweet and unique. Crissy thought that you could get into a lot of trouble drinking Arak because it was so easy to drink.

“How did you know I was… different… what do you call it… Waria?” Crissy asked.

Putri smiled at Crissy and shook her head before she spoke.

“It takes one to know one. You're very feminine and carry yourself well but there are little tells. Tourist women typically do not wear pantyhose in Bali. You are a tourist?” Putri sipped her drink.

Crissy had debated what to wear to go bar hopping. Most of the women in the resort were wearing shorts or skirts with loose cotton tops and sandals but Crissy finally opted for a pink miniskirt, infinitesimally sheer-to-the-waist fleshtone pantyhose and a cerulean satin blouse with high-heeled sandals as she intended to make a night of it. She had thrown her essentials into a colourful shoulder bag that she had bought at one of the many markets.

“Not really a tourist I suppose. I’m here with my aunt who is here on business but I’m here to get my top surgery done,” Crissy admitted, somehow feeling comfortable with this exotic woman whom she had only just met.

“Really? Who is performing the procedure?” Putri asked, her interest was genuine.

“Doctor Wyan Dewar at the Kasih Ibu Hospital in Denpasar,” Crissy replied.

“He’s a good doctor and that is an excellent facility. Some of my friends have had their gender affirming surgery there,” Putri sounded like she knew what she was talking about.

“Well your breasts certainly look wonderful. If he does anything like the job you have had done I will be more than satisfied. If I may ask… have you had bottom surgery?” Crissy blushed because she had only just met Putri and it was a very personal question.

“No I haven’t and I’m not sure I will. It’s painful and expensive and I like being Waria. What about you?” Putri asked.

“I’m not considering it either. I like who and what I am. I just want breasts and if they're as good as yours I will be happy,” Crissy admitted.

“Would you like to see them properly,” Putri smiled around her straw as she sipped her drink and Crissy read her meaning.

Putri had a tiny one room apartment not far from the Pickled Parrot bar. It was stylishly furnished and thankfully air conditioned. Once inside Putri pulled Crissy into an embrace.

She kissed Crissy softly and she responded immediately.

The sweet taste of Putri’s mouth, the taste of their lipstick as they pressed their lips together, the scent of their perfume, the soft embrace of their bodies was delightful. Crissy became tumescent; the soft satin material of her panties caressed the sensitive flesh of her penis. To Crissy, the experience of being with another ‘special girl’ was an exploration of the decadent.

Their kisses became frenzied and Putri pulled Crissy’s body close to hers; Crissy’s little miniskirt and blouse rustled against Putri’s satin dress, the feel of the soft fabric against her skin was electrifying. Putri slid her tongue into Crissy’s mouth and Crissy gasped as Putri’s fingers slid up Crissy’s legs; the soft caress of her fingers on Crissy’s sheer nylon-clad thigh was delightfully thrilling.

Crissy respond and lifted the hem of Putri’s dress and stroked her thighs. Putri pulled Crissy closer and their tongues entwined and Putri guided Crissy towards the bed and they fell onto it with Putri on top. Putri kissed Crissy passionately while her hands explored Crissy’s body. Eventually her hand slid up Crissy’s thigh, across the gauzy nylon until her fingers rested on Crissy’s panty-clad member.

Putri traced the outline of Crissy’s erect penis through the layers of satin and nylon and Crissy groaned as Putri squeezed it.

Putri broke the kiss briefly and smiled at Crissy.

"This is your first time with another Waria I can tell. I knew you would like it," Putri sighed and she lowered her face to Crissy’s.

Crissy reciprocated and slid her hand under Putri’s dress and found her member sheathed in sheer nylon panties. Crissy traced the outline of her erection with her fingernail and Putri gasped in Crissy’s mouth.

"This might be your first time but you certainly know what you are doing," Putri gasped and pushed her pubis into Crissy’s hand, encouraging her to stroke it.

Crissy took hold of Putri’s shaft and caressed it through the gauzy nylon and felt it pulse and quiver in her fingers. Putri began to masturbate Crissy through her satin panties, feeling her cock strain against the diaphanous fabric of panty and hose. They mutually masturbated each other, slowly stoking each other through the silken fabric of their panties as they kissed and fondled each other.

After a while Putri abruptly broke the kiss. She was lying on top of Crissy, looking down on her; her hands on Crissy’s shoulders, their legs intertwined. She stared at Crissy, looking lovingly into her eyes.

"You are beautiful," she sighed.

"As are you," Crissy whispered.

Putri’s face fell to Crissy’s stomach and she kissed her there, then she proceeded to work her way down Crissy’s skirt kissing her body until she was kneeling between Crissy’s legs. Putri kissed Crissy’s knees and slowly worked her way up Crissy’s legs; softly kissing Crissy’s nylon-clad flesh. Her fingers stroked Crissy’s calves, then the backs of Crissy’s knees and then her fingers found Crissy’s thighs. Putri rucked up Crissy’s skirt and Crissy lifted her head to see Putri’s face hovering above her groin. Putri lowered her face and Crissy felt Putri’s soft lips nuzzle her cock through her silky satin panties and sheer pantyhose.

Putri eased aside the gusset of Crissy’s panties and nipped at the gossamer fabric of her hose ripping a little hole. She extricated Crissy’s penis through the hole, freeing it. It stood rampant, dripping precum.

"Oh God!" Crissy groaned as Putri kissed Crissy’s shaft and tickled the glans of Crissy’s penis with her tongue.

Putri took Crissy’s penis into her mouth and Crissy was overwhelmed with pleasure and placed her hands on Putri’s head as she slowly begins to fellate her.

Putri’s tongue found Crissy’s fraenulum and teased it as her lips locked around the base of Crissy’s penis. Then she lashed Crissy’s glans with her tongue as she moved her lips up and down Crissy’s shaft. Her fingers continued to caress Crissy’s silken-clad thighs and Crissy lay back in utter bliss. Putri stroked Crissy’s scrotum through her panties and gently caressed it while her mouth continued to suckle Crissy’s erect penis

The sensation of being fellated by this seductive transvestite was almost overwhelming, the pleasure indescribable and Crissy felt her climax approaching. Crissy moaned and writhed upon the bed.

Crissy grasped Putri's head and pushed it into her groin as she ejaculated. Putri sucked and slathered Crissy’s member as her issue ejaculated into her warm moist mouth. Puri flickered tongue over Crissy’s throbbing glans while her lips sucked Crissy’s pulsing shaft as she milked Crissy of her essences, her fingers gently caressing Crissy’s scrotum to encourage the last of Crissy’s semen from her scrotal sac.

Crissy’s feet drummed on the bed. Her high-heels clattered together as her body writhed with passion as her orgasm raged through her body. Putri lapped up last of Crissy’s issue as it dribbled from the eye of her cock and kissed Crissy’s slowly deflating penis and then Crissy’s tender thighs. Putri slid Crissy’s lipstick-stained penis back inside her panties and pulled down and straightened Crissy’s skirt, almost primly.

Putri lay down beside Crissy and kissed her tenderly.

"Nice?" Putri smiled salaciously and Crissy nodded her assent.

"Now it's your turn," Puti’s smile widened.

Crissy felt Putri’s erection through the layers of lingerie and her dress. Putri’s cock felt long, hard and thick. Crissy reached down and slid her hand under Putri’s dress and fondled the bare flesh on her thighs. She was wearing sheer holdup stockings. Crissy’s hand continued its journey and found Putri’s penis enveloped in a layer of tight nylon panty. It throbbed in Crissy’s hand and Putri smiled and pulled Crissy’s face to hers.

Their legs intertwined and their nylons rasped, the feel of their gossamer garments brushing one and other was magnificently titillating. Putri pulled Crissy close and rolled her over so that Crissy was on top of her. Crissy kissed her and pushed her groin into Putri’s, feeling Putri’s hard cock pressing against her. Crissy lifted Putri’s dress and bunched it around her waist. Crissy’s skirt has ridden up and she lowered her body onto Putri’s and their panty-clad members touched, both fully erect and sensitive. Crissy slid her nylon-clad legs along Putri’s stocking sheathed limbs and ground her pubis into Putri’s and sucked on her tongue. Both of the beautiful young transvestites moaned as their satin-clad flesh rubbed together and their nyloned legs entwined.

They caressed, fondled and groped each other for what seemed like an eternity and when Crissy’s hand found Putri’s member it was indeed long, thick, hot and heavy. Putri’s cock was so large that the glans was poking above the waistband of her panties. Crissy stroked the nylon-sheathed shaft and the pulsing purple glans; the eye sticky with pre-seminal fluid.

Crissy broke their embrace and began a journey down Putri’s body, kissing and caressing every inch of her until she arrived at Putri’s feet. Crissy kissed her ankles, enjoying the sensation and taste of her stocking-clad legs. Crissy slid off Putri’s high-heel and took her foot into mouth, suckling the nylon-sheathed toes. Putri gasped as Crissy tasted her perfume and a scintilla of sweat. Crissy ran her tongue under Putri’s foot and Putri writhed on the bed as Crissy traced her calves up to her knees, where Crissy explored the small wrinkles in her stockings at the back of her knees.

Crissy continued her journey up Putri’s legs, pausing to lick her taunt thighs above the tops of her stockings then she continued on and found Putri’s hard cock poking out the top of her panties. Crissy engulfed it, pulling Putri’s panties out of the way so that she could get of much of Putri’s phallus as possible into her mouth.

Crissy smiled around the appendage in her mouth. She could hear Putri whimpering, her fingers entwined in Crissy’s blonde locks, trying to fuck Crissy’s mouth. Crissy slowly sucked and slathered Putri's member, teasing her as she writhed and moaned on the bed. Crissy sensed that Putri wanted to climax but she teased her, slowing down the tempo.

"Oh you bitch! Let me come. Make me come Crissy," Putri begged.

Crissy locked her lips around the long thick shaft of Putri's penis and lashed her tongue around the corona of Putri’s glans and began to suckle her, increasing the tempo until she felt Putri’s cock begin to pulsate in her mouth. Crissy’s mouth filled with warm musky viscous semen as Putri ejaculated in her mouth. Crissy sucked and licked Putri’s quivering pole, encouraging her to empty her seed into Crissy’s willing mouth. Crissy greedily swallowed the creamy glutinous issue that erupted from Putri’s cock.

Afterwards they lay in each others arms, basking in the sweet afterglow.

"How was it Crissy? Your first encounter with another Waria?" Putri lovingly stroked Crissy’s hair.

“Indescribably wonderful,” Crissy sighed.

“Well don’t go anywhere, I haven’t finished with you yet,” Puti smiled at Crissy.

She got off the bed and returned with ice-cold Bintangs and her Gudang Garam cigarettes. They drank the beer quite quickly as they were both thirsty and shared a cigarette before they began to caress each other, unable to keep their hands off each other.

They lay on the coverlet side by side still fully clothed. They kissed softly, their lips just touching. Putri's fingers gently slid along Crissy's thigh, her nails rasping on the nylon. When her fingers slid under Crissy's skirt, she gasped and pressed her lips hard against Putri's. Putri's fingers slipped lightly across Crissy's panties, eliciting a growl from deep within Crissy's throat.

Crissy slid her tongue into Putri's mouth and explored. Putri smiled and continued to tease Crissy through the silky layers of her pantyhose and panties. She rolled over so that she was astride her lover.

Crissy smiled up at Putri, guessing what was coming next and eager to be fucked by this exotic trans woman. Putri pinned Crissy to the bed and Putri removed her hand from under Crissy's dress. She teased Crissy with her tongue, slipping it along her lips and darting it in and out of her mouth.

Crissy was writhing on the bed, pushing up with her groin, begging for Putri to find her sex. When Putri had Crissy totally in her control she lifted herself off Crissy and hiked up her own dress and then scrunched up Crissy's skirt. Putri pushed her hand inside Crissy's pantyhose and panties and freed her erect penis through the hole she had torn earlier and then she freed her own penis.

They rubbed their cocks together igniting sparks of pleasure, both of them fully tumescent.

“Are you ready lover?” Putri asked, reaching for a small bottle of baby oil on the nightstand beside the bed.

Crissy nodded and looked lovingly up into Putri’s smoky eyes.

Putri reached down and ripped out the crotch of Crissy's pantyhose and smeared her erect penis with baby oil and Crissy opened her legs wide and Putri lay between them and kissed Crissy as she positioned the head of her penis in Crissy’s puckered bud.

She slid her tongue into Crissy’s mouth at the same time that she slid her cock into Crissy's anus.

Crissy squealed and writhed on the bed; impaled on Putri's long thick cock. It was amazing being fucked by another trans woman. Their sleek nyloned legs interlocked, the taste of their makeup, the smell of their perfume, the rustle of their clothing as they clung to each other was an expression of femininity that Crissy had never experienced before and it was exhilarating.

Crissy was used to being fucked by beer-gutted Steve Kessler, or whiskery-faced, bony-framed Wakka or a succession of hard-bodied, brawny, brutish fishermen and miners. This was so different and so wonderful.

"Oh Putri this is so wonderful," Crissy sighed when Putri’s cock was fully inside her.

"Yes darling, it is," Putri lowered her face to Crissy's and kissed her tenderly.

She kept her penis buried in Crissy's anus but didn't move it. She stroked Crissy's face and kissed her softly. She kept kissing Crissy, not moving at all until she felt Crissy begin to rouse.

At first it was almost imperceptible but Putri sensed Crissy push back against her. Putri smiled and began to slowly fuck Crissy. Crissy smiled up at Putri and nodded.

"Yes honey, do it," Crissy whispered.

Putri complied and moved her cock slowly in out of Crissy, drawing it all the way out and then driving it all the way in, ensuring she pushed her glans against Crissy's prostate so she was appropriately stimulated. The two gorgeous trans women fucked each other, Putri's hands under Crissy's shoulders so she could drive her erect penis deep and hard into Crissy and Crissy wrapped her legs around Putri, pulling her lover close as they kissed passionately.

Putri felt her climax approaching and she drove her cock in and out Crissy’s tight back passage faster and harder. The room filled with the slapping sound of flesh against flesh as the two lovers extricated every scintilla of pleasure from each other’s bodies. Putri could feel Crissy’s penis pressing against her belly and suddenly a warm wet petechia appeared in the front of Crissy’s panties and grew into a puddle of glutinous splooge.

Crissy had ejaculated and was creaming her panties and her climax triggered Putri’s own orgasm.

She gripped Crissy's ankles and lifted her legs up over her shoulders so she gained maximum penetration and jackhammered her cock in and out Crissy’s tight hole, looking down on Crissy’s face which was screwed up in the throes of extremis. Crissy assisted by lifting her bottom up off the bed and wrapping her arms around her lover.

They kissed and writhed and wriggled against each other, Crissy’s spunk a puddle of glutinous white plashet staining her black satin panties.

Putri moaned and ground her groin into Crissy's buttocks and ejaculated. Her phallus erupted deep in Crissy's anus, her semen surged from her cock, flooding Crissy's back passage. Crissy sighed as she felt her rectum fill with her lover's seed, Putri's cock pushing against her prostate and her belly pressing against Crissy's penis, prolonging Crissy’s climax until Putri was done fucking her.

The two lovers kissed and caressed as their climaxes slowly subsided. Putri unlocked Crissy's calves from around her neck but kept her semi-tumescent penis inside her. Crissy smiled up at her lover.

A while later they sat across from each other drinking Arak and Coke and smoking Putri’s pungent clove cigarettes. Putri had undressed and changed into a silk gown and fresh panties. She had gifted Crissy a pair of her panties; Crissy’s cum-soaked undergarment was in a plastic bag inside her shoulder bag. She had thrown her pantyhose in the bin and as the evening monsoon settled in she was glad to be barelegged.

“I have to go. I can’t eat and I should stop drinking because I’m having my surgery tomorrow morning,” Crissy studied the end of her cigarette.

“And I have to get ready to go to work. Roy, the guy who owns the Pickled Parrot, gets shitty if the hostesses are late,” Putri sprang to her feet.

“You’re a hostess?” Crissy asked.

“You know what I am. I do the same work as you only I do it a little differently,” Putri leaned down and kissed Crissy’s cheek.

Crissy had told Putri her story, leaving out the part about her aunt being a smuggler as well as a madame.

“Can I write to you?” Crissy asked.

“Don’t do that but if you ever come back to Bali look me up. If I’m not at the Pickled Parrot I’ll be here,” Putri gave Crissy a pragmatic smile.

The last thought that crossed through Crissy’s mind as she drifted away on the anaesthetic the next day was of Putri.

Two Years Later…

When Crissy came back to Karumba with her new breasts she was more popular than ever. Some of the potential clients who were reluctant about fucking what they referred to as a ‘boy dressed like a girl’ reconsidered their stance and Crissy picked up even more of Lucy’s former clients.

Greta was making a handsome profit from her smuggling racket and as a consequence so was Steve Kessler who moved in with Greta and consequently, very reluctantly, gave up fucking Crissy. It just didn’t seem right to be fucking his lover’s niece but he and Crissy still remained close friends and Crissy still felt indebted to Steve for getting her out of Sydney and settling her in Karumba.

Greta handed over the day to day running of her brothel to Crissy while she concentrated on reinvigorating the Paradise Caravan Park and Lodgings turning it into a much more upmarket establishment to attract the growing herd of grey nomads travelling through northern Australia whilst offering better facilities for the permanent residents. This was all funded by the continual flow of funds she received from the smuggling racket but she still found herself with too much cash on hand and she needed to diversify.

Crissy made regular trips to Bali, sometimes to have more gender reaffirming surgery; nothing drastic just a tracheal shave, some facial feminisation surgery and laser hair removal. Mostly she went because she liked the laidback lifestyle that made it a prefect place to holiday and of course so she could catch up with Putri who had become a close friend as well as her ‘Bali lover’.

It soon became apparent to Greta that Crissy was growing bored with life in the small fishing and mining town of Karumba and that she craved a life where there was more infrastructure, entertainment and diversity. She put a proposition to Crissy and Crissy snapped it up.

Using her excess cash, Greta purchased a motel on Sheridan Street in Cairns that was going to seed and brought Crissy in as an investor. Between them they overhauled the place and advertised it as Hotel/Motel that catered to adult couples and singles with no children. It was also expressed that it was a gay and lesbian friendly establishment and also a ‘no-tell’ enterprise where couples could meet for a tryst with complete anonymity and discretion.

Crissy lived in the hotel and managed the establishment and kept four of the rooms nearest reception for her bevy of prostitutes including Lucy who’s defacto husband agreed to let her go back to work because they needed the money. Crissy treated her girls fairly and paid them well and ensured that they had regular medical checkups. Crissy had a very short list of clientele who she serviced herself but she was mostly busy running the motel and her brothel.

Unable to get Putri a work visa so she could live in Australia, Crissy was negotiating with her aunt Greta with the view to getting Putri smuggled into Karumba via Wakka’s fishing boat. At first Greta was dead against it but Crissy was wearing her aunt down and was confident that Putri would soon be joining her in Cairns.

One day on whim Crissy called her father in Matraville New South Wales.

“Is this Billy Doyle?” Crissy asked although she immediately recognised the grizzled voice on the other end of the phone.

“Is that you Christian?” Billy sounded both surprised and angry.

“I haven’t heard from you in years. Did you ever make a go of it up in Karumba son?” Billy asked the girl he still believed to be his son.

“Oh yes daddy I did and my name is Cristina not Christian. I was just calling to tell you to stick your inheritance up your arse!” Crissy slammed the phone down into the cradle and smirked to herself.

The End